A Chance For Redemption
by gymjunky71
Summary: Hermione Granger finds herself in the Fall of 1945 with no memory of how she got there. No way to return to the 1990's, she adjusts to her situation and finds purpose for it - stopping Tom Riddle Jr. from becoming Lord Voldemort. Re-Upload (written in 2012). Rated M for scary scenes. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

Hermione was seated in Potions class. She didn't know who was substituting for Professor Snape. But this man looked remarkably like Professor Slughorn, who had left the Hogwarts last year. She was first student to arrive, choosing the back row so that she could get Harry and Ron to pay attention. Their winter exams were almost upon them.

Hermione started getting her parchment ready to take notes when the next student entered the dungeon. She wouldn't have noticed him if he had bothered to close the door quietly or if he had not chosen the seat at the table directly in front of her. She watched him make his way to his seat. He was slender and tall, almost as lanky as Ron.

His silky dark hair was ruffled, dangling almost to his jawline. The candlelit dungeon glistened against it. He had a chiseled jawline, prominent cheekbones, creamy skin, soft rosewood lips, and eyes as dark as mahogany. She remarked how alluringly handsome he was, too elegant for his secondhand Slytherin robes. He must have detected her eyes on him because he glanced over his shoulder. Hermione hastily dropped her gaze. Once the classroom filed with students, she worried that she was in the wrong class.

She couldn't recognize a single face. But, the professor closed door with a wave of his wand so she was trapped. She didn't want to embarrass herself by revealing her mistake before the whole class, deciding not to raise her hand. Once the hour was over, Hermione would run over her schedule again and would follow that with an apology to the professor she missed. Hermione felt her heart jump into her throat and her cheeks flush when the black-haired boy glanced over his shoulder at her again.

He frowned at her and slowly turned his attention back onto the professor; it was clear that he had never seen her before, neither. But Hermione set about brewing Volubulous potion with the rest of the class.

When they were completed, the substitute professor whom Hermione hadn't heard the name of yet was deciding between her result and that boy's as to who finished best.

"I'm sorry to say, but I think that she may have bested you this time," the professor even _sounded_ like Professor Slughorn.

The handsome boy and Hermione's eyes finally met. Something behind his gaze seemed fraudulent, treacherous. Serpentine.

"Strange," said the boy in a deep silky voice that erupted Hermione's skin in goose bumps.

She tried to laugh it off, "Yes. Strange."

As the professor was explaining to the bored onlookers what she had done differently, Hermione's head throbbed with pain. It felt like someone was squeezing her brain. The boy watched her as passively as a marble statue. Her eyes were watering so she closed to dry them. She gasped and turned away from them all, leaning heavily on her desk.

"Little miss, are you alright?" asked the professor.

Hermione gazed back at him through watering eyes, "No, my head -"

The pain throbbed again and this time Hermione couldn't hide it, throwing her head back at the wave of agony. She hadn't felt a pain like this since she last used the Time-Turner four years ago. Hermione felt nauseous; she moaned and pressed her palm to her forehead. The class gasped as her eyes rolled back, her elbows buckled, and Hermione started to slip to the floor.

The handsome boy dove beneath Hermione's desk, his cloak billowing behind him, and caught her before her head could hit the stone floor.

* * *

Hermione awoke in the hospital wing, feeling clearer but very shaken. Her doe eyes fluttered in the sunset glow from the tall window behind her bed, lazily taking in her surroundings. She was startled to find the handsome boy sitting on a stool at her bedside.

The boy forced a grin, "Hello."

Hermione blinked hard to clear her hazy vision, "W-Who are you?"

The boy leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. This close, Hermione could appreciate their significant size difference.

"I was wondering the same of you." He evaded her question. "I haven't seen you around here."

Hermione shook her head, "Hermione. Hermione Granger."

He nodded and his eyes flickered to the nurse sitting at her desk set at the hospital wing entrance. Hermione followed his gaze and realized that she didn't recognize that nurse, either. _Where was Madame Pomfrey?_ She had never known Madame Pomfrey to employ assistants.

Hermione massaged her aching forehead, "How did I get here?"

"I, _um_ , carried you. Professor Slughorn doesn't have the muscle." He added, "Don't feel offended. The only exercise he completes regularly is eating himself to an early grave."

She sat bolt upright in the bed, "Professor Slughorn?! This is going to sound mad, but, what year is it currently?"

The overly-handsome boy frowned at her, " _Urmm_ , it'll be 1945 in just a few weeks."

Hermione let that wash over her. _Was this some kind of prank?_ Getting a closer look at him, she instinctively didn't trust him. It didn't seem like he was present with her; there was a sense of distance when she considered his dark eyes again.

"Well, that was very nice of you. Thank you …," Hermione realized he hadn't told her his name yet.

"Tom," he answered. "Tom Riddle."

Hermione froze, staring at him. If he was telling the truth, she truly was in the year 1945. Was there reason to fear him now? He wasn't 'Lord Voldemort' yet. Or, was he already going by the name amongst his soon-to-be Deatheater followers? Has he already made his horcruxes? Hermione shook herself out of staring at him and shakily extended her hand.

"Thank you, _Tom._ I'm Hermione."

Tom nodded and said with that deep voice that still chilled Hermione, "I know."

Hermione forced herself to grin at him. But, she had an inkling that he could tell she was feigning. She fell silent and still, staring ahead of her and away from him. It felt like Tom Riddle was a cobra that could strike at any moment.

"Did you just transfer here?" He asked.

Hermione glanced at him, rendered speechless by terror, barely stifling the urge to jump out of her bed and run away. She could only shake her head. She reconciled with herself that if he used Occlumency, he'd find nothing to contradict her. She had no idea how she came to be decades in the past. He'd only find that she has been a student at Hogwarts.

The nurse came over to them and asked Tom Riddle to leave. Hermione watched him go, sighing with relief. The nurse had to snap her fingers in front of Hermione's nose to draw her attention away from where Tom Riddle had gone.

The nurse laughed at Hermione's refusal to leave, "This is the first time where I think I'll have to force a student to leave early. Why do you want to stay?"

"My education is important to me?"

"Honey, I think its best that you rest in your dormitory."

Hermione noticed that her hand was trembling. She even flinched when her own long curly hair fell over her own shoulder. She tried to engrave into her mind that she shouldn't need to fear him now ... but her heart was telling her otherwise. She now regretted silencing Harry when he wanted to discuss what he knew of Lord Voldemort's years at Hogwarts. She was shocked that she had handled him so well.

"Can you stand?" the nurse prompted Hermione awkwardly.

Hermione blinked her dark long lashes up at her, "This can't be happening."

"You're not the first girl I've had to be speechless after being in such close proximity with Mr. Riddle, my child." said the nurse. The way the nurse flushed after her confession told Hermione that she had said too much, "I mean, he's barely seventeen so it would be silly of me ... the way he carried you in. I think you actually caught his attention over the 'others'."

"He just hasn't seen me before," Hermione told her as she gingerly tested out if she could stand.

She noticed as she did that her dark skirt was much longer than she remembered it being and that she was wearing stockings rather than pantyhose. Her sweater was still embellished with the Gryffindor symbol of a lion but it was much heavier than before. She looked outside and saw that it was winter rather than spring.

"It's snowing," Hermione noticed numbly, leaning back onto the cot.

The nurse followed her gaze, "We'll be having a white Christmas. I guess Riddle must have _not_ caught you in time. Maybe you _should_ rest here."

Hermione shook her head, "No, I think you were right. I'll prefer to sleep in my own bed."

She forced a smile as she walked around the nurse, though it probably looked more like a grimace. Hermione walked slowly down the hall, toying with the tips of her thick hair as her mind worked feverishly. The most recent memory she could think of was receiving a summons to Professor Dumbledore's office. Judging by how few people were lingering in the hallways, Hermione guessed that it was the last day of classes and that most of the students were on their way home. The sun was almost finished with its descent, pinking the falling snow.

It closely resembled dripping blood and this thought sent another wave of chills up Hermione's neck. She dropped her hands from fingering her hair and tightly bound them over her chest. She reached the stairs in the highest tower and was now climbing up it to the seventh floor. She hadn't noticed the tall, handsome boy standing stalk still in the corner closest to that staircase. He was blanketed by the dark shadow cast by the candle hanging in the air by the stairs. Tom's dark eyes followed her till she vanished above him.

Though it may be the eve of 1945, Hermione knew that the Gryffindor common room must be in the same place as it was in the 1990's. So, she kept her head down and watched her shoes take her there. Hermione could feel her wand fastened in the waistband of her skirt. She touched it with her fingertips of the hand closest to it, feeling safer than she had before. She only looked up when she arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" chimed the woman merrily in the painting as large as a door.

Hermione sighed and rolled her dark eyes, realizing that she didn't have the password.

"No need to be so rude." said the Fat Lady crossly, looking offended.

Hermione took a deep breath and decided to try out the most recent winter-themed password she remembered, " _Mistletoe_."

"I'd hate to meet you under one." snapped the Fat Lady as her portrait swung inward. "Looks only go so far, young lady!"

Hermione climbed through the portrait hole. The common room had eight girls in it. They were clearly a close clique judging by how they all looked over at Hermione at the exact same time. The common room looked nearly the same, less dated than it was in the 1990's. The couches had less stains, the carpets were brighter with the lack of dirt over the ages, and the curtains were tied aside with red and green ribbons that the house elves probably stopped doing by the time Hermione had started at Hogwarts. As she passed the large group of Gryffindor girls, all around the ages of fifteen to seventeen, she could hear them saying things about her under their breaths.

"Who's she?"

"She's the girl Tom Riddle saved. I saw him carry her out of potions class. It was so romantic."

"She must be his girlfriend. No other girl grabs his attention like that. What's so special about her?"

"She's in my dorm but she doesn't talk much. What's her name?"

"Dunno-"

Hermione spun around and interrupted whoever was last to hiss about her, "My name is Hermione Granger ... and all of you should reread the definition of 'whispering'. The whole point is for the topic of discussion not to hear you."

She turned to continue her way to her bed, hoping that she'd wake-up from this nightmare. But, the oldest girl in the group called her back.

"Wait!" the girl said and Hermione froze with one foot on the first step. "We're sorry. Can you come here for a second?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly and set her foot back on the ground. She walked over to them and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, "What do you want?"

"What's it like?" the girl asked.

Hermione frowned down at her, "Sorry -?"

"Being with Tom," explained the girl. "Is he good at snogging? He looks like he'd be."

"That's repulsive," said Hermione quietly, her lip curling over her teeth. "I'd never kiss him."

She turned away from the group and pounded up the stairs before they could call her back. Hermione slammed the door to one of the bedrooms and leaned against the door. She slid down its smooth finishing and hid her mouth in both of her hands when her sobbing grew too loud. She heaved herself to her feet and flung herself onto the nearest bed. She wiped her tearful face on the pillow and out of the corner of her eye noticed a photo frame on the bedside table.

Frowning at the familiarity of it, Hermione reached a shaking hand out and pulled the frame closer. Renewed tears welled in her eyes as she recognized the three people in the moving photograph. It was a recent photo of her with her parents. She clutched it to her chest and buried her face into what must be her own pillow. She only stopped crying when exhaustion dragged her down in for a restless night's sleep.

On the roof of her dormitory, his feet dangling just out of sight of the window by her bed, sat Tom Riddle. He had the hood of his cloak up over his head and he listened to all he could hear over the howling wind. When he could hear no more, he pulled his legs back up over the ledge of the roof and dropped down to the window pane. He clutched the metal frame to secure himself further and pointed his wand directly at her chest. Her face was alit by the candle on her bedside table, her wild brown hair framing her beautiful face.

He noticed that her small nose and soft cheeks were reddened from the crying he had overheard. His wand trembled in his long hand and he fought to steady it. Tom shook his hood off from over his head and aimed at her chest again. When he heard the door to the dorm open he leaned as far away as he could out of sight from hundreds of feet above the ground. His wand had remained pointed at her heart.

He knew the spell, he sensed that this girl would cause him trouble, and Hermione needed to die. It didn't matter to him that he now had witnesses hurrying around the room to get into their warm beds. Still, when he began to say the spell to silence this potential threat, his wand trembled away. He snarled and redirected his wand at the candle at her bedside. The fire blew out at that moment, drowning the entire room in shadow.

Tom didn't care if he hit the wrong girl, though he rarely missed his target. They wouldn't be able to point him out even if he had the word 'guilty' written on his forehead. He would have many other opportunities to take this girl down. As his calculating eyes adjusted to the new darkness in the room, he noticed that the girl that was haunting his mind was shivering. He told himself that it annoyed him rather than concerned him.

He pointed his wand at the maroon blankets Hermione was sleeping on top of and folded one side over her. Her shivering slowed to a halt. Tom nodded and lifted himself back on top of the roof, safely out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Hermione groaned as the sun finally breached its sluggish climb over the Forbidden Forest and stabbed her eyes with its rays. She felt very sore and exhausted, like she had not slept at all. Hermione pushed herself up gingerly and found that every other girl in the dorm was still fast asleep. She sank down to the floor by her window and dragged her school trunk closer to her. It seemed relatively new but had some stickers on it from countries she must have visited in this world.

Hermione opened the trunk and fished around for some more comfortable clothes to wear. She pulled out a baggy maroon sweater and a dark corduroy skirt. As she was pulling her sweater up over her head, Hermione noticed out of the corner of her eye something strange on the outside windowsill. She crawled over to the window. _How could that be possible?_

Hermione reached her hand forward and touched the bottom of the glass closest to the peculiar dents in the snow, " _Shoe prints_ ..."

She leaned back and buried her face in her hands, her elbows on her knees. The howling wind that had been swirling around the tower all night had not removed Tom Riddle's footprints. The Gryffindor common room was on the seventh floor, hundreds of feet above the ground.

 _Who would stand outside the window to look in here? Who would take such a deadly risk? Who would be so reckless and desperate?_ Hermione looked at the large dents in the snow again. The rising sun was beginning to melt them and the snow sparkles in the new light.

She closed her eyes and turned back to the clothes that she had set out to change into. She got to her feet as she pulled the maroon sweater over her head again. Hermione looked around the room once more before unbuttoning her school skirt to change into the other one. She decided to pull on some white stockings since it was so chilly in the castle and slipped back into her black school shoes. She simply brushed her hair and applied lip balm since her lips were so dry from the salt of her tears.

Hermione hated how loud her shoes echoed in the Great Hall. She didn't want to draw any more attention to herself. There were a few boys seated at the Slytherin table, no Ravenclaws tucking into their breakfasts, and two Hufflepuffs. Hermione clutched a book she had taken from her trunk to her chest as though it could be her only defense against the one boy she didn't want to see again. She walked to the middle of the Gryffindor table and sat down on the bench.

Almost immediately a jug of pumpkin juice, plates of buttered toast, both scrambled and hardboiled eggs, and bowls of fruit appeared before her. Hermione served herself a plate of toast and chopped up a hardboiled egg to put on top of it. She folded the bread up like a taco and opened her book as she took a bite. She was halfway through the first chapter of her Transfiguration text book when she was drowned in a long shadow.

"What are you reading?" it belonged to Tom Riddle.

Hermione felt her concentration evaporate. She could only pretend to still be reading. She pulled her hair over her shoulder nearest to him and reached to take a sip of her glass of pumpkin juice. Her throat had gone dry.

"I-I'm reading." She stuttered as she felt the bench weigh down as he took a seat beside her.

"I can see that." Tom squinted at the passage, "Transfiguration. Are you as good at charming small animals into goblets as you are at the Volubulous potion?"

She cleared her throat, "I can transfigure anything you place in front of me into a lion."

"I'll have to see that sometime."Tom smirked doubtfully before continuing softly. "Why are you so nervous? Midterms are done. It's almost Christmas. Haven't you got a family to go home to –?"

The thought of Tom knowing about her parents startled her so much that she couldn't pretend to be reading any longer.

She just fixed her eyes on the middle of the page, "What do you want, Tom?"

"Just trying to get to know you better."

Hermione flipped her hair over to her other shoulder to look up into his dark eyes, "I'm feeling sick again. I need to go."

His icy fingertips brushed the top of her hand laying on her text book. She jerked away her hand as if he had electrocuted her. Hermione hissed as the edge of a paper sliced her palm. Tom watched the blood rising in her tiny cut. She felt his dark eyes on her more than ever. She hoped her frozen exterior would disconcert him enough to leave. He reached for a napkin and handed it to her but she shook her head a little too quickly. Her eyes darted away from him.

She couldn't ignore his deep voice, "Have I done something wrong?"

"Not yet. I dunno. What am I saying?" Hermione hated the sound of her own voice quivering. "I don't feel well. I have to go."

"Need the hospital wing –?"

She stood up, collected her book, and walked away, saying as she passed him, "I can walk myself there just fine, thank you."

Hermione didn't stop walking till she realized that she was in the dungeons beneath the castle. She walked a little bit longer and found herself in front of Slughorn's classroom. The sign post hanging by the door caught her eye. It was titled _Spring Partners_. Hermione held her breath as she searched down the alphabetical list for her name. She couldn't find it. The students last names were partnered, making it a little more difficult. Hermione reread the list line by line and exhaled when she found her name. But beside hers was none other than _Riddle Jr., Tom._

Hermione gulped, "No ..."

How was she going to survive this nightmare if she kept being thrown together with Tom Riddle Jr.? Hermione pushed open the classroom door, not having the thought that Slughorn would likely not be in there. But, she was glad she was for once wrong. There sat the much younger professor than whom she had been used to seeing.

"Why, good morning!" he said merrily after looking up from the essays he was grading. "How can I help you?"

Hermione took another deep breath and closed the distance between herself and him, "I need a new partner."

"I'm sorry, I've got so many students. Can you remind me what your name is?" Professor Slughorn asked.

"Hermione Jean Granger," she said in quick succession. "I'm in your Seventh Year class. Please, you've partnered me with Vold-Tom -"

"Ah, now I remember you." said Professor Slughorn as he walked around his desk and leaned against the edge beside her. "He carried you to the Hospital Wing yesterday. I assumed you two were friends."

Hermione shook her head fervently, "Far from it, sir. I think it would be best if we're not partnered together."

"I disagree, miss Granger." he said, shaking a finger. "As I recall, you beat him in our last potions class before winter break. I think having our two best potion makers partnered together could benefit you both immensely. Who doesn't like a little competition, eh?"

Hermione shook her head, "But, think about it! If I'm partnered with someone who is struggling, I can help _them_ improve -"

"I'm sorry, miss Granger." said Professor Slughorn as he sank back down in his chair behind his desk. "But, my list is final. It shouldn't be too hard to be partners with him. I take it from the ladies that he's quite the 'catch'."

Hermione was so desperate, she couldn't stop herself,"I know that he has asked you about Horcruxes."

Slughorn looked up at her slowly, his mouth gaped, "Who told you that lie?"

"And that you instructed him on how to create one," Hermione's voice cracked when she thought of Harry. "He asked you about making seven, right? I'm scared, too, Professor Slughorn. Just, _please_ , give me another partner. Don't make me tell the Headmaster that you've been teaching Restricted subjects ... to a ticking time-bomb."

Slughorn gaped up at her again.

She nodded at him, leaning closer to him across his large desk, "I know you can hear the bomb ticking, too, professor. We're on the same side."

She was surprised to find him smiling, "Keep this up, miss Granger, and you'll be one step closer to earning a spot on the Shelf."

Hermione closed Slughorn's door behind her and dragged her feet over to the staircase that would lead up to the building above. Her heart had not slowed down since the professor reassigned her to a future Deatheater, Avery. Hermione placed one hand over her heart and the other on the stone threshold just a few feet from the winding staircase, trying to steady her jagged breathing.

"Why am I here?" she asked tearfully, not worrying enough about being overhead. "What's happening to me?"

She yelped when she heard a door slam shut down the dark hallway only lit by floating candlelight. Hermione turned on the spot and wiped her wand out of the waistband of her corduroy skirt. She couldn't see anyone.

" _Lumos_!" she breathed and almost the entire hallway was drowning in her wand's powerful light.

"Hello?" Her voice echoed down the cavernous hall; her eyes searched all she could see hungrily. "Is anybody down there?" She took one step backwards, " _Ahh_!"

Hermione leapt around as the boy's long, slender hands grabbed her shoulders, and saw that she had walked into a tall boy's chest. Feeling like her heart will never come back down from being in her throat, she looked up to see the disturbingly-beautiful boy's face.

"Are you following me?" she gasped, because her voice seemed to have deserted her.

Hermione curled her lip up at Tom and wriggled her shoulders out of his grip.

Tom cocked his eyebrows, pretending to be offended, "It's a big castle, miss Granger. What are the chances that I'd bump into you here?"

"Slim," said Hermione, still clutching her wand at her side.

Tom tucked one curtain of black hair behind his ear and hunched his shoulders up to lower his face closer to hers, glancing at her wand, "There's nothing to fear, _Hermione_."

Hermione gulped and slowly stowed her wand back in the waistband of her skirt, ignoring Tom's eyes catching a glimpse of her underwear. Hermione made to squeeze between him and the stone threshold but he blocked her way with his arm. She noticed a peculiar ring on his finger then glared up into his eyes.

"There's something 'off' about you -" he began but she interrupted him.

Hermione gaped up at him indignantly, "Move or I'll curse your arm off."

Tom considered her eyes for a moment longer and grinned, "All you had to do was say 'please'. "

He let his arm fall and she pushed past him, taking two steps at a time till she vanished above him. Tom could still smell her apple-scented shampoo. He couldn't shake that feeling that she knew more than she should about him. He could have any girl in the castle. Why did he repulse her so?

* * *

A month has passed and Hermione had given up that she'll ever awaken from this horrifying nightmare. She was starting to make friends with the girls in her dorm, learning from them how she had apparently behaved before she was ... aware she was in the end of the year 1944. For the first week, Tom Riddle was everywhere she happened to be unless it was socially inappropriate like the ladies toilet or her dorm. Slughorn was now on her side, asking her almost every day if she could tell him more about why Tom needed to know about Horcruxes. He promised her a place on his shelf of 'rising stars'.

It was now New Years Eve and he had invited all his favorites for a celebratory party. Unfortunately for Hermione, his group included Tom Riddle. When she could no longer handle being in the same room with him when she could stop it, Hermione left the party around fifty minutes into it. She had worn a lacy black dress she had borrowed from her roommate, Ruby Dakins. She was wearing red earrings, a black purse hung on her shoulder, and strappy black heels.

It wasn't long before the _clacks_ of her heels were joined by heavy footfalls of a young man.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Tom demanded, breathing heavily, "You haven't glanced my way the whole night."

Hermione's frown deepened at his words,"Why would you expect me to?"

Tom's breathing slowed down and he kept up with her tiny strides easily, "There's something going on between the two of us and you know it. Admit it. I can't be the only one -"

She rolled her eyes up at the lantern they passed underneath,"Maybe it would stop if you would just stay the hell away from me like I've told asked you hundreds of times."

Hermione felt his hand grip around her bicep and he spun her around to face him easily with surprising strength.

She curled her lip over her teeth, "You're pathetic, you know that? But, I shouldn't be so surprised. It's sad how you keep showing up wherever I am. Why is that?"

"You're forgetting that I was invited as well."

Hermione scoffed up at him,"Nice deflection. Keep avoiding my question and you'll never get an answer out of me."

But, the further she continued to insult him the more he seemed magnetized to her. Hermione jerked her arm out of his grip and resumed clacking her heels down the hall, aching to rest on her bed. She rolled her eyes when she heard his heavy footfalls follow her at a run. She hitched her tiny purse higher onto her shoulder and sighed as she turned around to face him one last time.

"Tom, what do you want from me?"

"Let's flip a coin."

"Let's _what_?"

"Yeah, let's flip a coin. If I catch it, you have to tell me what your problem is with me 'cause I can't figure it out -"

"You are so full of yourse-"

"-if _you_ catch it, I'll leave you alone. Forever."

Hermione felt her breath hitch in her throat. She was never good at catching anything. She envied Harry's Seeker skills more than ever in this moment. But, in spite of how silly this resolution felt to her, she had to take the risk. With her eyes never breaking from his, she fished a bronze coin out of her purse and held it up for him.

"I need it back after," she said, feeling her cheeks flush at the questioning look in his dark eyes. "It's not mine."

He gave her a curt nod and lifted it up, pinching it between his middle finger and thumb, and Hermione felt her skin go cold when his fingertips brushed her palm.

Hermione suddenly realized they were standing by the wall where Tom Riddle had forced Ginny Weasley to write in blood _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir beware_. She knew Tom had seen that flicker of emotion glint in her brown eyes while the rest of her face remained stoic and still. She watched him hunch his shoulders and stand contrapposto so that he would be closer to her height. He was still so tall that Hermione felt like he could never stop looming over her. He was taller than Harry and Ron. No one had ever made her feel so small.

Tom winked his at her before tossing the coin into the air. Hermione noticed that the coin was arching closer to her than it was to him. She rocketed her hand into the air, an act she had perfected after many years of answering questions in classes, and closed her fingers around the bronze coin. She hadn't expected to win this deal ... least of all for Tom's hand to close around hers gripping the coin. She frowned up at him as he turned her so that her back was facing the wall.

He leaned down greatly so that his forehead was against hers. He started walking forward and Hermione tried to keep calm as she felt her back press against the cold stone wall. Hermione kept her eyes on his. She could feel his warm breath on her lips. She knew what was coming and hated herself for being too stunned to stop him. Tom was like a car, a two-ton weapon, and Hermione for some reason was the driver.

As his chin tilted up to hers and his lips were just centimeters away, it dawned on Hermione why she was here. She had the perfect opportunity to change the course of history. She could save countless lives ... if only she could stop the monster Tom Riddle would descend to be. Hermione gave a shuddering breath as his toasty lips pressed against hers. She glared at his closed eyes one last time then closed her own eyes, feeling his other hand take hers hanging at her side.

He pinned her hands gently against the stone wall as he snaked his hot tongue in, out, and around in her mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Hermione found it unnerving by how filled the Great Hall was on the first day the students whom had left for the holiday returned. She was wearing her uniform. A black skirt that reached her knees, dark tights to help keep her legs warm, a white button-up shirt with a Gryffindor tie around her neck, and her cloak draped over her arms. She hadn't seen Tom since he kissed her outside Slughorn's office. Hermione hoped that he thought it was a mistake and would finally leave her alone.

"Miss Granger," said a deep voice by her ear.

Hermione shied away from the warm breath and looked up to see Tom Riddle standing beside her, "What?"

"I thought we were getting passed the hostilities," he chuckled with a smirk on his lips.

Hermione took a step back from him in case anyone turned to look at this odd pair, "You thought wrong. I'm going to eat breakfast. Goodbye, Tom."

She knew that if she immediately let her guard down, Tom would lose interest and she would not get a chance to stop him if that happened. Hermione turned away from him and felt his fingers stroke her hair which was clamped up in a bun. He had gently grabbed one of the many straying locks of dark, curly hair.

She squinted up at him over her shoulder, "I'm not a toy for you to play with, Riddle."

He studied her face for a moment then sighed, "You still haven't told me why you hated me."

"I wouldn't use the past-tense," Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to the Gryffindor table.

Tom tensed his sharp jaw line and gave each pair of eyes watching him a glare. Those intruding students, mostly naive boys, quickly turned back to their plates of food. He wondered what he could do so that he could be next to this alluring young woman. After a moment, the infamous mischievous glint sparkled in his dark eyes and he strutted to where Hermione had taken a seat at the Gryffindor table. Hermione felt someone tap on her shoulder but when she turned to see who it was there was no one to be seen.

The girl sitting across from her indicated Hermione's other shoulder with the teeth of her fork and, when Hermione turned that way, she was blinded by a mop of dark hair and warm lips pressed against hers. Hermione knew who had kissed her and decided to let him get what he wanted just for a moment. She told herself that it was to keep him on a baited line and definitely not because he had a talented mouth ... definitely not. The girls surrounding Hermione giggled quietly and exchanged looks of surprise.

When Tom parted his lips from hers, Hermione's roommate piped-up, "What a little liar you are, Hermione Granger!"

The girls snickered around her and Hermione felt her face, which had been flushed by Tom's lips a moment before, drain of color. Before she could come up with an explanation, Tom sat with his back against the table beside Hermione.

He cocked one brow down at her and peered over his shoulder at the girl who had called Hermione a 'liar', "What has she done to upset you, miss?"

Hermione wondered why vomit was not surging up her throat at his feigned kindness towards the student. She guessed he was putting on a show to win Hermione over.

"She said that she was single," replied the girl, whose voice had gone up a lot of notches at the fact that Tom was _gracing_ her with his greatly-sought-after attention.

Hermione rolled her eyes just before Tom turned back to gaze down upon her, "Well, clearly she's been mistaken."

His deep voice and warm gaze, which Hermione could still see a shard of deadly ice right through it, did not fool her. Hermione tilted her head and said with forced infatuation, "I guess so. You _are_ always right, aren't you, Mr. Riddle?"

Tom leaned down to whisper in her ear, "And I always get what I want. See you in class, beautiful."

* * *

Hermione only realized that she was spilling ink onto her desk in Slughorn's classroom when her jittering hand dipped her pinky into the black substance. She was so nervous about this particular class that she was absentmindedly stabbing her little jar of ink with her quill. There were only a few other students in the class besides her and no sign of Tom yet. Professor Slughorn was seated behind his desk, munching away on a box of crystallized pineapple while grading some extra credit assignments at the last minute. Hermione had been ignoring his hints to come speak to him.

Before she could answer his last attempt, the seat beside her became occupied, "Hope no one is sitting here."

It was Tom Riddle. Hermione watched him set his book bag on the floor between their feet and caught a whiff of his sandalwood shampoo.

Hermione cleared her throat and said with forced politeness, "Actually, my study partner is. That's been her seat since before fall term ended."

Tom grinned down at her after fishing his supplies out of his large bag, "I pulled a few strings. I'm your new study partner." Hermione felt her throat go cold while he continued, "Professor Slughorn seemed very confused by the change in status of my 'relationship' with you. He told me that you had requested to be reassigned just before the winter holidays."

Hermione almost lost all pretenses but managed to hold back, "How strange."

"I smoothed things over by gifting him with the fruit he's fattening himself up with at the moment," Tom continued while prematurely signing his name on the roll of parchment he would use for note taking.

Hermione listened to the footsteps of the herd of classmates flooding into the classroom. Her hair, which was tied up on top of her head, was weighing down and pulling painfully on her roots. Hermione reached up while determinedly ignoring Tom watching her and let down her thick, curly dark hair.

"You should leave your hair down more often," said Tom quietly so that no one would hear him but Hermione. "It's more beautiful this way."

Hermione rolled her eyes and flipped her hair so that it could be a curtain to hide her face behind, "Well, _I_ like it up."

Tom chuckled deeply, "You could dress like Death himself and still grab attention."

"What are you, a fashion expert?" Hermione snapped while she scribbled her name onto her own parchment with such force that she nearly punctured it.

Tom held up both of his hands sarcastically, "I just appreciate beauty."

Hermione glared up at him pointedly, "You won't win me over with compliments, Riddle. So, just stop, okay? Just stop."

Tom pulled back her curtain of hair when she turned away from him and saw before she smacked his hand away that her high cheekbones were flushed. Hermione flipped her hair over to her other shoulder so that it was out of his reach. Just as Professor Slughorn began conducting the lesson, Hermione felt Tom's long white hand stroking her back up and down.

She squirmed away, "Please, I'm trying to concentrate."

Tom stroked her once more and patted her lower back before saying, "That's what first 'drew' me to you. Your intelligence."

Hermione scoffed, "Sure, Tom. That's what _every_ boy notices first about a girl."

Tom's face suddenly fell and Hermione felt like what he said next was the first truthful thing he has said since she met him, "Well ... _I_ do ... if they've got any, of course. And you do, Hermione. You do."

She looked at him then they both flinched when professor Slughorn rapped his chalk board with his chalk suspended in midair magically.

"Oi, there will be plenty of time to be all lovey-dovey later, you two." said Slughorn pointedly. "Do I need to add on to your homework?"

The class groaned harmoniously and pleaded for the professor to reconsider.

Hermione apologized, "I'm sorry, sir. Just punish me."

Tom's brows raised and a small, _genuine_ smile stretched across his lips. There was a hint of confusion glinting in his dark eyes, as though he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about her selflessness. It was an alien thing to him. Regardless, Hermione did not notice any of this.

"You all are lucky Hermione Granger is in your year," said Slughorn to the room at large. "Very well, miss Granger. See me after class and I'll give you your additional assignment."

Hermione wondered how the class seemed to go by much more quickly than the previous ones had. Perhaps, it was because she was dreading what Slughorn had to say to her. She had a feeling he would say something more than assigning busy work. Tom told her that he'll wait for her outside in the garden … to talk. Hermione walked slowly up to Slughorn's desk and sighed.

"Don't worry, I can't think of a single thing to add to your load what with all this stuff flying around in my head." Slughorn then sighed, "Has your opinion of Mr. Tom Riddle changed, miss Granger?"

She realized he must have seen Tom kiss her, "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"What are you doing, girl?" he asked pleadingly. "He's never going to change. Not for _anyone_. Not even for a gifted looker like you. Don't you see that?"

"I can't give up on stopping him, professor. I just can't," Hermione shrugged with defeat. "I know what I'm getting myself into."

There was sadness in Slughorn's eyes, " _Do_ you, child?"

"More than you think so, sir." replied Hermione, thinking of her friends whom don't exist yet.

* * *

Hermione noticed that January was particularly snowy in 1945. She wondered if it was because global warming hadn't been triggered yet. Snow thick and, in some places, as hard as stone encased the grounds of Hogwarts. Hermione turned against the powerful chill, heading towards where she believed the garden to be located. The garden was nearly entirely hidden by the falling snow.

The sky above was more like a dense, grey, cavernous canopy of thick clouds. It darkened the land below. This was one of the few gardens outside the main courtyards. When it was spring, there was a fountain adorned with the sculpture of a unicorn with water spouting from its horn at the center and there were semi-circle stone benches surrounding it. Only one bench was clean of snow.

It was the one that Tom Riddle was sitting on. He was wearing his black cloak. Tom's dark, glossy hair was flipped over the high collar of his emerald turtle-neck sweater. Hermione saw that he was reading a roll of parchment that she had a feeling was not worth studying as hard as he was. Hermione ran her hands up and down her biceps with her arms crossed over her chest and hitched her school bag higher onto her shoulder before closing the distance between her and the future mass-murderer.

If he had not been gifted with his father's looks at his conception, Hermione wondered if it would be less difficult to confront him.

Hermione sat down beside him and straightened her long skirt, "You want me to talk? Well, I want to listen."

Tom quickly, yet casually, stowed away the note he was reading, "To what?"

"If you don't let me understand you," Hermione explained to him. "I don't see what's the point of this."

Tom watched her indicated with her finger that she meant the two of them to be 'this'. He shrugged his shoulders, "There's nothing too difficult that needs to be explained. I _like_ you ... is that not an acceptable reason?"

"No, Tom. I've figured that out on my own. It's been hinted in the way that you've been stalkingme."

Tom gave Hermione a look that she suspected a lion would give its prey before saying with his deep voice, "What do you want to know?"

"Something you've never told anyone else." Tom seemed to inch away and Hermione added casually to keep him chomping at the bit, "It could be something small, even insignificant to you. But, I think you just want someone to trust ... and to gain theirs."

Silence spread between them before he spoke,"What is it ... about you ...?" He murmured, a hand reaching presumably to cup her cheek.

Hermione reached up and took his hand down to place it on the ice-cold bench before saying gently, "No one knows you, Tom. Not _really_. You're a mystery and evidently unsolvable. I don't make friends with people who keep secrets."

She felt something pulsing beneath her hand and realized that hers was still on top of Tom's. When Hermione retracted her hand, Tom discreetly flexed his fingers as though they had gone numb from her touch. She sniffled when her nose started to drip from the icy breeze. She fluttered her long, dark lashes while looking down at his hand then peered up at him.

"Well, if I wait any longer I'll turn into an ice sculpture. When you've decided what you want to tell me, or nothing at all ... well, you know where I'll be. You always seem to find me, anyway."

Hermione made to leave but Tom grabbed her wrist, almost hard enough to hurt her.

"Wait, Hermione." he choked out.

Hermione turned and held her books to her chest like they were a shield from the future dark lord. Tom heaved himself to his feet and once again was looming over her. He took a step closer and both of his hands started reaching upwards. Hermione took a tiny step back and he smirked. But, it wasn't a leering kind of smirk ... it was more like she had actually made him laugh inside.

Did she really have the power to make something as impossible as that happen? Tom's long, bone-white hands uncoiled his emerald Slytherin scarf from around his neck and he held it out for her.

She glanced from it to his eyes, "I've already got a scarf in my dorm."

"I just don't want any other guy thinking that he can take you from me."

" _Wow_ , you're really that arrogant to think I'm _yours_?"

"I have a test to answer that question," Tom draped his scarf around her shoulders and situated her thick hair over it. "You want to know something about me? Meet me in the Clock Tower at three o'clock tomororw morning. It's the darkest hour of the day."

"Do you really think I'm mad enough to go anywhere with you _alone_?"

"We're alone now, aren't we?" He smiled with a hint of superiority and control. Hermione swallowed deeply, knowing he was right and that she should go somewhere more populated. He must have seen her doe-like eyes flicker with anxiety, "Don't worry, we won't be alone tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Hermione was sitting on the floor by her window in her Gryffindor dormitory, in the middle of a battle her comb and her stubborn hair. She was still dripping with bath water and, theoretically, it should be easier to force a comb through her thick, curly, dark hair. The clouds that had been fluffing the campus with snow drifted away, allowing the moon to make an appearance in the darkening sky. Hermione decided to wear her hair down but part away from the middle. If she must be in the '40's, she might as well look the part.

Besides chap stick, the only makeup she wore was black mascara. Hermione didn't want to give the impression that she was trying to seduce Tom any further. Also, she didn't want to raise any of her dorm-mates suspicions that she wasn't going to sleep with them tonight. Hermione hoped that she had made the right decision to go. In fact, she could reconsider at any moment.

But, she had to admit that her continued refutes of his advances would eventually ward him off. If Hermione wanted to be close enough to him to change him and the future, she would have to start making her own 'advances'.

"Why did you keep it a secret?" asked Emily, the blond girl that occupied the bed across from Hermione's.

Hermione yanked her comb through the final stubborn knot in her non-compromise-able hair before blinking blearily at the girl to feign tiredness, "About what?"

Two other girls chorus with Emily, "Tom! Why didn't you tell us you liked him?"

Hermione yawned, "I would have been lying. But, now he's ... _consuming_ me."

Almost all of the girls in the dorm sighed with envy and Emily smirked over at Hermione, "I knew he'd have you under his spell in no time."

Hermione rolled her eyes, set her comb on her nightstand, and climbed onto her bed in her nightdress, "Anyone know a counter-jinx for it?"

All the girls laughed at Hermione's 'joke', though she hadn't been entirely silly about it. Hermione lifted her bedcovers that the house elves had tidied away and enveloped herself beneath them. After listening to the girls gossip over the new 'high-profile couple of Hogwarts' for over an hour, all the girls except Hermione fell asleep. It was a Friday night and there were no classes set for the following day. This usually meant that the Gryffindors, and probably the other three houses as well, stayed up into the wee hours of the night.

Hermione waited an extra ten minutes to be certain that all the girls were fast asleep, most likely dreaming of the boy Hermione was about to risk meeting in the Clock Tower. She carefully sat up in her bed and draped her legs over the side. She pushed the covers quietly off her nightgown and gingerly stepped down from her bed. Hermione peered around at the sleeping girls once more before pulling her nightgown up over her head. Beneath it, she was wearing a calf-length reddish-grey skirt that fanned out around the base.

Her white button-down t-shirt was tucked into the high-waist skirt and she was wearing thick cotton stockings. As she exited the dorm more quietly than a ghost, she snatched her cloak to keep her warm in the chilly corridors. Also, it would deter any attention to her bosom which was a little too endowed for the shirt. Hermione wished she had Harry's invisibility cloak and any thoughts that strayed to her greatly missed friends and family made her large brown eyes well with tears. Although she was almost fifty years in the past, she still knew the castle's layout like the back of her hand.

Her feet carried her to the Clock Tower while her mind distracted her with depressing thoughts of those she missed so dearly. The pain of being alone without them almost made her forget why she was wandering the Hogwarts corridors past curfew. Hermione looked up at the sound of the enormous clock ticking by what time she had left. Hermione was about to cross the doorless threshold into the Clock Tower when she felt like she wasn't alone.

Out from the shadows came the snickers of a few boys and Tom Riddle's deep voice, "See, my friends? She is mine."

Hermione froze like a doe in the headlights of an oncoming car, only in this circumstance the light was from an illuminated wand. Tom was standing in the very back corner by a stack of wooden boxes coated in dust and cobwebs, towering over every boy flanking him. Hermione could not see Tom's face hidden beneath the shadows, only the outline of his staggering body. The rest of the boys she could see. They were the future Death Eaters Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, Yaxley, Nott, Mulciber, Dolohov, and Selwyn.

"Ah, my lord, you've got good taste in women." said Avery impulsively.

So, they were already referring to Tom as the dark lord. She wondered if he was calling himself 'Lord Voldemort' yet. Hermione's welling eyes flickered from all of their faces to Tom's still hidden in darkness. This was a mistake, a stupid mistake, a _huge_ mistake. Hermione touched the base of her wand stowed in the waistband of her skirt for comfort.

"She's a beauty," sneered Yaxley.

Hermione took an instinctive step backwards, ready to fight or run or both.

Nott chuckled with Yaxley, "Nice body."

Laughed Avery, "I can hardly tell with that hideous Gryffindor cloak around her."

Yaxley stepped forward after glancing in Tom's direction, "Let's unburden her."

"I bet her tits will perk quite nicely in the chill," said Nott as he followed Yaxley.

Hermione's eyes lit with outrage and her tongue was set to curse the boys -

"Do not touch her," said Tom, his deep voice was not angry but still dripped with danger, almost more impressive than the latter.

Hermione's raspberry lips closed at his voice, her hand now clutched tightly around her wand. Tom stepped forward into the wand light. Unlike the rest of his gang, whom were wearing sensible clothes to be warm, Tom was only wearing a white long-sleeved button-down shirt un-tucked over his black uniform pants and his black shoes.

Tom stood between his followers and Hermione with his back to her, "Where have your manners gone, gentlemen?" Some of them chuckled quietly before being silenced by the icy look Tom gave those who dared to find humor in his question. Tom sneered and shook his head down at Yaxley, "That is no way to talk to a lady."

Hermione felt like she might lose her voice if she didn't speak up soon, "Tom, I'm going back to my common room. Goodnight."

Tom turned to her and smiled gently, "Stay." He bent down greatly to whisper in her ear so that none of the others would hear, "I want to share my world with you. Is that not what you asked of me?"

He pulled his face away to loom over her. Hermione blinked her welling eyes dry before asking, "Aren't you worried we'll all get caught?"

"Nothing's ever linked back to us -" said Nott but he stopped abruptly when Tom held up a hand to silence him.

Tom chuckled down at Hermione, "It has never happened in all my six and a half years here, my lady."

Hermione glanced from his eyes down to the future killers slouching against the stone walls. She swallowed deeply and chose to say teasingly but with strength, "Only if we're doing something that would interest me. What _are_ we doing?"

Tom's brow twitched in surprise and he smiled, "You keep proving my judgments wrong, Granger. _You_ definitely take my interest."

Hermione scoffed, "Well, you can't 'do' me." The boys against the wall snickered at her choice of words which whatever they had interpreted went completely over Hermione's head. "Where are we going?"

Tom glanced downward and Hermione clutched her cloak tighter to her neck, assuming that he was trying to have a look at her breasts. But, his eyes were focused on her feet and he chuckled, "You'll require shoes."

* * *

"Only Gryffindors are allowed in here I'm afraid, Mr. Riddle." teased the Fat Lady.

Tom tilted his head and smiled, "I won't tell if you won't, beautiful."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the fact that even a portrait could hardly withstand his charm. The Fat Lady caught this and rounded on her, "You're supposed to be in bed at this hour, young lady."

"We're studying together for Transfiguration," lied Tom, drawing the Fat Lady's eyes back onto him like a magnet. "She distracted me in class so now she has to help me."

Hermione squinted up at Tom and parted her lips to deny it but the Fat Lady spoke, "Well, that's better than any punishment I could deal out -"

"You're a painting," said Hermione irritably, "you can't do anything to me."

The Fat Lady looked flabbergast, "I _could_ not allow you entry."

Tom leaned over the portrait and the Fat Lady looked up at him, "For me? I need her."

Hermione turned away from both of them. Sure, Tom needed her ... but not for homework. If she failed to change him, she would fail to save numerous lives. She decided to look pleadingly at the portrait.

The Fat Lady gave Hermione one last glare before sighing, "Password?"

"Unicorn Hair," said Hermione with what she hoped was a grateful smile.

The Fat Lady begrudgingly swung inward for Hermione to cross the threshold and Tom said to the portrait, "I'll just wait out here with you. It's been a while since I've visited. I must apologize. Are you still good friends with Violet?"

Once the portrait was closed again Hermione broke into a run to the winding staircase to the girls' dormitories, her cloak billowing in her wake. She quietly tied her black uniform shoes at the foot of her four-poster bed, her cloak now lying on her bed, deciding whether to just climb back into her bed and ditch Tom. _No_ , she told herself, _you've already come this far. You're closer to his heart now. Remember your real friends and family._

 _Don't give-up_. Hermione peered around at the sleeping girls who were evidently unaware that she was not dreaming with them. She was about to crawl on her hands and knees to leave when her hand touched a soft fabric. Hermione looked down and saw Tom's scarf that she had kicked underneath her bed. She sat back down on the ground and looked from it to the door twice before slowly draping it loosely around her neck.

Hermione's hair was now completely dry and fluffy around her thin face. At least it was lighter now that water was no longer weighing it down. It curtained her face as she crawled across the floor, trying to avoid trodding on Tom's scarf or making any sound. She tiptoed down the spiral staircase and jogged over to the portrait.

Hermione took a deep breath and whispered to herself, "I wish Ron and Harry were here with me."

She pushed open the portrait and saw Tom backing away to give her space, "I'm ready now."

"You certainly took your time," whined the Fat Lady before batting her lashes up at Tom. "Not that I wouldn't have minded a little more time."

"I bet you wouldn't," said Hermione under her breath as she started descending one of the many staircases before it would change.

Tom grinned down at Hermione's back over his shoulder before departing from the Gryffindor portrait, "So sorry to leave so soon. I'll come by again later."

"Take care, handsome." cooed the Fat Lady with a wave of her chubby hand, adding in an undertone as he turned away, "Such a nice boy."

Tom was soon at Hermione's side, "I bet its killing you that you don't know where we're going."

"Nice choice of words, Tom." said Hermione impassively.

Then she realized with a skip of her heartbeat that she had left her cloak on her bed and that her breasts were bouncing along with her stride down the steps. Hoping that Tom had not noticed, Hermione tried to situate herself so that he would not be able to watch them.

She should have known better than to think Tom wouldn't notice something different about her.

He said, "We'll go back to the Clock Tower. I've left my coat there, you can use it."

Hermione was surprised by the gesture, wondering why he wouldn't take advantage of the fact that her shirt was a little tight. He had not changed enough for her to give him credit. She supposed that he was just trying to act like the gentleman he was not.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms beneath her bosom, "Tell me where we're going or I'll tell you where _I_ am going."

She indicated with her head the staircase they had just descended. Tom smirked, "No need for threats, my lady. I just wanted it to be a surprise."

"No offense, but, I think your idea of a surprise would _scare_ me." admitted Hermione.

Tom sighed and tilted his head while staring into her big brown eyes, "It's just an abandoned house in Hogsmeade. Well, more like a shack. I go there with my mates sometimes."

Hermione frowned up at him, "The _Shrieking_ Shack?"

Now Tom furrowed his brows, "The _what_?"

 _Of course_ , thought Hermione, _Lupin has not attended Hogwarts yet._ Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "Never mind. But, I've been there before."

There was a certain glint in Tom's eyes that sent chills down her spine, "When, my lady?"

Hermione gulped, feeling frightened, "It's not like I _saw_ anything in there, Tom. It was empty."

Tom glanced between her eyes, "It's alright. I trust you."

"I wouldn't," Hermione warned teasingly.

Tom grinned, "Maybe you're right. But, I'll take my chances."

They resumed descending the staircase, which Hermione realized had moved while they had stopped to talk. She retorted, "Stop calling me ' _my lady_ '."

Tom chuckled to himself which both annoyed and scared Hermione. She wasn't sure how she felt about the pet-name. But, she was certain that she wasn't ready to be _that_ close to the future killer, even though they had already kissed, to warrant anything other than her birth name.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Hermione followed Tom close to his side with her arms crossed over her stomach. His 'friends' were on their heels, snickering to each other about what could only be the fact that they were nine boys against one girl. It didn't help that the girl was from their rival House. Hermione kept glancing up at Tom but he kept his dark eyes straight forward. He had a steady walking gate, with an ever so slight strut.

Hermione was glad that her back was to the disgusting boys saying crude things they'd like to do with her. While Hermione was watching her own feet, Tom glanced down at her and over his shoulder at his followers. With one icy glare they fell silent. Tom wouldn't admit to anyone that the affect of their words on Hermione bothered him as well.

Hermione took a deep breath and cringed at how small her voice sounded at the beginning, "So, why are we taking the _long_ way to the One-Eyed Witch passage?"

Tom furrowed his brows and met Hermione's eyes, "You're not as innocent as you look, miss."

It surprised him that Hermione knew about any secret passageway out of the castle. They fell silent again and the hiss of the boys behind them filled her ears again. If he weren't the future Lord Voldemort and mass murderer, Hermione would hold Tom's hand. Perhaps she should stop holding him accountable for crimes he has not yet committed. Hermione shivered involuntarily and Tom pressed his eyes shut as though stealing himself to do something.

"Want my cloak now?" he asked her quietly.

The boys behind him gaped at his politeness.

Hermione, however, had seen this side of him before. Whether it was forced or true was a different matter, "That would be … nice."

Tom shook himself free of his black coat, which was badly beaten with age, and side-stepped to walk behind Hermione. She felt him drape the heavy coat on her shoulders and she did not object. It was surprisingly warm and the scent was ... fragrant. Tom may be many things, but, at least he bathed regularly. A grin pulled at the corner of Hermione's lips which did not go unnoticed by the tall handsome boy walking beside her.

She was smiling at her private joke while he thought she was happy to be wearing something of his.

Tom glanced teasingly at the boys over his shoulder before bending down to whisper in Hermione's ear, his face turning abruptly sad, "I wish we were alone."

Hermione turned her face in the direction of his warm, minty breath and admitted, "If it meant being free of them," she indicated the students with a pointed glance at the corner of her eye, "for the first time, we'd agree on something."

Tom nodded and straightened back up, "One good thing to come of this."

"Hopefully not the last," Hermione said in an undertone.

She hoped that this risk that she was taking would help draw him to the 'right' side, the side of which she was toeing the barrier. But with his, for lack of a better word, fellow-racists accompanying them, she doubted she would make much progress with Tom.

"They're good in bed, the Mudbloods. You heard that, my lord?" Avery called up to his leader.

Hermione felt her stomach drop through the floor. Was she still a muggle-born in this time period? She had not tested writing to her parents yet. Hermione kept her eyes forward, hoping that her inaction would deceive them all into believing something she wasn't certain of. Maybe she could lie that she was a half-blood like Tom, whom probably claimed pureblood status along with his ties to the Slytherin bloodline.

She could see the statue of the One-Eyed Witch down the corridor and barely resisted flinching when Tom replied, "Do you know this from _experience_ , my friend?"

His tone surprised Hermione and made her relax a bit. Tom seemed _amused_ by Avery's outburst rather than inclined to investigate the boy's claim. At his retort, the boys flanking Avery guffawed and Hermione shot a look over her shoulder at them.

She called forth her bossy tone that got Ron and Harry to do their assignments, "Are you all _trying_ to get us caught?"

Tom grinned down at Hermione's authoritative fire and glanced back at his followers, "I must have been mistaken when I judged your intelligences."

A few of the boys started stammering with apologies and explanations but stopped when Tom held up a hand without looking at them. Hermione guessed that those that had spoken out were the ones that were at the bottom of their social ladder.

They reached the statue of the disfigured witch and Tom said the password, " _Dissendium_."

The hump of the statue's back split open at his voice, revealing the short stone slide that would lead to the tunnel to Honeyduke's Sweetshop's cellar.

Tom turned and offered his hand to Hermione, "Lady's first, miss Granger?"

Hermione glanced from his calculating dark eyes to his long, thin, and pale hand. After a moment of hesitation, she placed her soft hand on his and he helped her down the slide.

It was odd entering the Shrieking Shack without the Whomping Willow to contend with. Hermione followed Tom inside with Rosier behind her. He didn't speak to her until they reached the stairs that led up to a door in the floor of the shack.

"He hates mudbloods above all things." He growled in Hermione's ear once they were inside the shack. The other boys circled around them to the back of the shack while Rosier added, "Even the pretty ones."

Hermione wiped her head around, smacking him with her thick mane as she turned to face him, "You've got more guts than I suspected, Rosier." When he looked taken aback, Hermione sneered, "Don't look so surprised. You've got a lot of nerve threatening the top witch in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I am Riddle's confidante," said Rosier boastfully. "You're going to need a lot more than good marks to gain _my_ level of status."

Hermione tilted her head and rolled her eyes, "I _invite_ that challenge, Rosier. Now, get out of my way."

Rosier glared at her, "Watch your tongue, witch-bitch."

Hermione gasped as a bone-white hand grasped Rosier's shoulder and twisted him away from her. Although Tom's face was inscrutable, Rosier seemed to shrink beneath the power of those dark almond-shaped eyes of his leader. Tom did not need to be the oldest in their group. They all but bowed with one single look from him. Hermione's lips parted in surprise when Tom started hissing huskily down at Rosier who began to tremble.

He was threatening Rosier in Parseltongue.

When he was done, Rosier excused himself to rejoin the rest of the students drinking in the back of the shack. Tom watched him retreat then locked his eyes onto Hermione unnervingly quickly. He closed the distance between them and, after looming over her with dominance, he sank down onto the moth-eaten couch with her. Hermione already knew about Tom's ability to speak to snakes because of having known Harry Potter.

Hermione cleared her throat, "You're a Parselmouth."

Tom gave her a small smile and tilted his chin a little upward, "Does that scare you?"

Hermione felt so small sitting beside him and wondered if he could hear her heart thundering within her chest, "It is _said_ to be connected with the dark arts ..."

"And yet?" Tom prompted her while the boys at the opposite end of the shack fell almost silent.

Hermione shook her head, "I had a friend who could speak it. It scared me at first but ... I accepted it. I didn't like it but it's not like he _asked_ for it. Does Rosier speak it?"

Tom scoffed, "The dastard is frightened by it. English is his first and only language, Hermione."

Hermione wished that she had learned some words from Harry while she had the chance. But, she had always stubbornly ignored the issue so that he would lose interest in practicing it.

Hermione looked off into the broken window up at the full moon, thinking for a moment of Remus Lupin, "I heard talk, Tom, about you parading your ... _talent_ for your House."

Tom seemed to be mentally scrambling for a way to get her back to being impressed by him, "Salazar Slytherin was gifted with this _talent_ as well, miss Granger."

Hermione gazed back up into his eyes, "Let me guess, you're now going to tell me he's your ancestor. I've read that his last descendants died with the Gaunt family."

She already knew that he was. But, Hermione wanted to give him the impression that she didn't know as much as she did about him.

Tom nodded, "Your knowledge goes beyond the textbooks -"

"Actually, I read it in _Hogwarts: A History_." Hermione lied impulsively, feeling her throat go cold.

 _Why had she said that_? She betrayed her stoic stance and glanced up at him with fright flickering in her dark eyes. Hermione scrambled for a subject to change to.

"Maybe Rosier is frightened by it because he doesn't understand you, Tom." She said quietly, trying to relax. "Like I said before, no one does. And I have not learned anything new."

Tom glared at the side of her face and she could feel his eyes boring in to her, "My confidence is a prize to you?"

Hermione returned his glare, "One that I'm not interested in anymore. You're boring me with these games, Riddle. I'm leaving now." She pushed herself up to her feet and pointedly handed him his heavy dark coat before giving the boys a sarcastic smile, "Nice to meet you all. Goodnight."

Hermione marched to the exit and did her best to ignore the catcalls of the future Death Eaters behind her.

"Bye, Hermione!" called Avery, who grunted as Lestrange elbowed him in the ribs.

She heard Yaxley stomp across the wooden floor, "You come back soon!"

A few of the boys chorused, "We'll miss you!"

Hermione stumbled down the cellar door to the tunnel and burst into terrified tears. She staggered bumped against the dirt walls, pinching herself on protruding roots that seemed to grab at her skirt and shirt.

"Hermione!" she heard a resonant voice call out accompanied by heavy footfalls.

She shook her head and crossed her arms over her belly, "I'm tired, Tom. Alright? I just want to sleep."

She felt his hand grip her bicep and she twisted around, yanking her arm free of his grasp, "What did you bring me here for?"

Tom glanced from her dripping tears to her welling eyes and said quietly, "You asked for it."

Hermione's voice trembled and broke with her continued sobs, "You _knew_? _Didn't_ you? That's why you joked about it. You already knew."

She had a feeling that he had already found out about her muggle lineage. Hermione must still be a muggle-born in this era, too. He had brought her here to make her suffer for something she was born into. Tom wanting to punish Hermione for something she couldn't control was her assumption. It was the only conclusion she could come up with.

Tom glanced at the ground then glared into her eyes, "Did you really think that I'd waste all this time on you if I didn't know what I was up against?"

Hermione pressed her lips together and shook her head, "What were you going to do to me?"

"Nothing -!"

"Rape me? Torture me? I bet you could see just how 'dirty' my blood is when it spills out on the floor!" Hermione sobbed.

He took a step closer to her and she stumbled backwards. Hermione was losing control. She couldn't handle him anymore. All she wanted to do was run. Run away and never look back.

"We're not done!" hissed Tom as he reached forward to steady her on her feet.

Hermione slapped his hands away, "We were done before we started, Tom. If you're going to kill me then just do it!"

Tom was silent for a few agonizing moments then he said quietly, "Nobody has to know."

"I heard that nothing gets traced back to you," Hermione cried. "Don't worry, I'm sure you won't have to pay for my murder either."

Tom's lips twitched with frustration, "I'm not the villain you make me out to be, Hermione. No harm will come to you by my hand."

Hermione's lips parted in shock, " _Why_? What makes me different than the rest, huh? _Explain_ that to me!"

Tom shook his head, "I don't know what to _say_ to you. I don't know how to explain it. It's ... you just _are_. You're special."

Hermione scoffed, "You're doing a really good job of making me hate you."

"And you're failing at making _me_ hateyou," Tom said quickly, stolen in the moment. But, to Hermione's surprise, he continued, "I'm _confused_ , Hermione. _You_ flipped everything upside down for me. You make me question my difference between right and wrong. When I saw you ... it was like a light that incinerated all the dark."

Hermione realized that her mouth was gaping and she shut it. She swallowed before saying the only thing that came to her mind, " _Oh_."

Tom swaggered down the stairs with his flock of followers on his heels. They were under the impression that he had not detected their wary stares or hushed whispers of mutiny. Perhaps they had been disappointed by their lord that they were not allowed to have their way with Hermione Granger in the shack tonight. But, it did not matter to Tom whether their dreams were satisfied. If any had laid a finger on the enticing Mudblood, they would have found themselves in grave peril.

He led his flock of wary cocks to the wall concealing the Slytherin common room, "Pure-blood."

The sound of his deep voice sent chills all over the future Deatheaters' pale skin. The only boy that was arrogant enough to believe he had no reason to tremble was Rosier. It always amused Tom that their House founder made it so easy to gain access to their common room. Perhaps he relied solely on fear to deter unwanted guests. Their common room was located in the dungeons of Hogwarts and extended partially under the Black Lake.

Tom stepped into the grand room and stood aside while his 'friends' filed in. He slouched against the cold stone wall, his dark brown hair stroking his high pale cheekbones. Rosier was the last to enter the Slytherin common room and Tom laid a long thin hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I require a word with you, Rosier." he said calmly.

The rest of the boys did not pause even for a second as they marched off to their respective dormitories. Rosier raised his eyebrows and Tom gave him a small smile, "Walk with me, my friend."

A few hours earlier, Tom had escorted the muggle-born back to her common room. The Fat Lady, whom had awoken with a start at the sound of their footsteps, fell silent to hear what Hermione was saying to Tom.

"Honestly, when I look at you ... I see a waste. You're so gifted, Tom. You really are. But, I don't think ... no, I _know_ that you don't care about anything. Unless you find or birth a side of you that can care, I can't spend time with you anymore."

Hermione turned to face him by the portrait. He furrowed his brows,"Are your demands ever going to end?"

"When you let me see who you _really_ are. When you show me you _can_ feel ... anything. Anything at all," Hermione replied with a tilt of her head.

Tom clenched his teeth, flexing his jaw muscles, "You can't accept the way I am?" When she only continued to look up into his dark eyes, he nodded, "I'd have to change."

Hermione shook her head and held one of his cold hands in both of hers, "Don't do it for me, okay? Do it for yourself. I ... _care_ about you, Tom."

Tom curled his lip, "How can you? You hate me."

Hermione shook her head fervently,"I just don't know you well enough to _like_ you, Tom. Is it not enough that I've grown to care?"

Tom swallowed deeply, his protruding adam's apple bouncing up and down. She had made his mouth go dry.He scowled down at her," _Hypothetically_ , if I were to try to ... make some compromises, what would I have to say to make you believe me?"

Hermione said the password to the Fat Lady and the portrait swung forward before she replied quietly, "Actions speak louder than words, Tom. Not groveling, not arse-kissing. I'll know it if I see it. I'll see you later -"

Hermione was about to turn her back on him to step over the threshold into her toasty common room when she felt his thin but strong hand coil around her upper arm. He yanked her around and their chests collided. Before Hermione could react, Tom sank down greatly and kissed her. She wondered why he was not forcing his tongue down her throat like he had the first time. This kiss was tender, slow, and easy. But, there was a bit of pressure in it.

After what felt like a split second, he pulled away,"Just in case I fail you. "

He watched her touch her lips, glossed with saliva, with her fingertips. Hermione's large dark eyes glanced between each of his before she turned her back on the tall, handsome, future-killer. Before closed closed the portrait behind her, she peeked up at Tom.

"It's not too late, Tom. Fight for it."

Tom took long strides down the length of the common room with a dozy Rosier panting at his heels. Their common room was cavernous and grand. There were low-backed black and dark green leather couched, ornate ethnic rugs on both the stone floors and hanging on the walls. Their fireplace, which did not have a chimney, was the mouth of a serpent carved in marble. The emerald flames flicked like its forked tongue would have.

Tom stopped by a window that separated him from the bottomless depths of the Black Lake. Rosier staggered to a halt by his leader and gazed up at him, "What does my lord require of me?"

Tom smirked without meeting the boy's eyes, "It is my understanding that you threatened my guest, miss Granger, last night."

Rosier gulped and looked around uncertainly, "Has this act offended you, sir?"

Tom looked down at the naïve boy, "Hardly at all."

He allowed Rosier one moment to think he would leave his presence unscathed before Tom wrapped his fingers around the boy's throat. He slammed Rosier against one of the many columns in the room with such force that bits of dust and stone rained down upon them.

While Rosier spluttered beneath the pressure of Tom's grip, Tom's dark eyes bored into those reddening eyes of his victim, "I don't _feel_ , my most trusted confidante. I do not succumb to happiness or sadness. I don't feel anything. Hermione Granger is mine for the taking. Do not forget whom you answer to again."

Tom let a few more seconds pass while Rosier gasped for air before unclenching his fingers from around the boy's throat. Rosier slid down the smooth column to the icy stone floor, massaging his sore throat.

Tom turned his broad back on the boy and watched a grindylow swim past the high window before him, "Feel free to pass that along to the others, my friend."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Hermione creaked open the door to her dorm and slipped inside. It was almost dawn and all the girls were still snoozing away. She gave a sigh of relief and tip-toed over to her bed with her shoes held in one hand. Hermione sank down to the floor and placed her shoes beneath her bed. Her cloak was still draped over the foot of her bed and she tugged it down to stuff it in her trunk.

Hermione realized she was shaking when she fumbled with the buttons of her shirt and that she was crying when she felt a tear drop plop on her knuckles. Her breathing was jagged and hitched. She tried to calm herself down. Tom had kissed her again ... and she wasn't sure why she was crying. It wasn't a bad kiss.

No matter how much she tried to deny it, it was ... a _nice_ kiss. Tom had saved her from certain death ... or worse. It baffled her that he apparently did not despise her for being a muggle-born. Hermione managed to unbutton her shirt and wriggled out of it. She then realized why she was weeping ... Tom really did have a chance for redemption.

Tom found it amusing that his fingertips had left bruises on Rosier's neck. He found it even more hilarious that Rosier was still trembling in his presence the next morning. Tom had not gone to sleep like the rest of them. Well, perhaps Rosier did not get enough rest either. But, it was more evident on that boy than Tom Riddle.

The only thing that irritated him was that now the rest of his 'friends' were shooting him glances of uncertainty. They were mutinous stares. Tom made a mental note to remind them never to doubt him again. Rosier had bags under his eyes which were reddened ... probably from crying. The hours Tom had spent awake had not gone ... unproductive.

When thoughts of the enticing Mudblood, Hermione, grew too intense to bare ... Tom had one way of releasing that pent up tension. For the common courtesy of everyone else in his House, Tom had washed his white-as-snow hands well afterwards.

Hermione had drifted off into a restless nap while the rest of the girls in the room were getting dressed for the day. It had taken a while for her mind to stop thinking long enough for sleep to coax her down. She had her blankets tucked beneath her chin and her thick unruly hair was fanned out around her head like a crescent moon. Two of the girls walked over to Hermione and were about to hake her awake when one pointed out that Hermione was wearing mascara and tinted lip balm. Her hair had betrayed its former style but the smell of the potion was still fragrant to the girls.

After whispering a few theories between each other, they finally left Hermione alone.

Hermione yawned as she staggered down the stairs to the common room. Her delicate white nightdress billowed around her skinny ankles. Her wand was held loosely in her hand. Hermione heard a boy clear his throat and she felt like she had never woken up more quickly than in that moment. She whirled around with her wand held erect and she gasped again when she saw who was slouching against the wall.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione breathed, letting her wand down a little but not lessening her grip on it. "How did you even get in?"

Tom grinned and bounced off from the stone wall, "It would appear that I can be very ... persuasive. By the way, today's password is 'chivalry'."

Hermione scoffed and then gave him a small smile, "You're kidding."

Perhaps it was this easy to smile at the future dark lord because of what had happened last night. She didn't want to hold her breath in case he had come to tell her that he never wanted to see her again and, consequently, would carry on down his path of destruction. Hermione then became acutely aware of how messy her hair must look and that she was in her thin nightgown.

"Let me just go put something on," Hermione whispered, discreetly trying to tidy her hair.

Tom plopped down on the couch before the empty fireplace, "I'll be here."

Hermione hoped that Tom wasn't bothered by the fact that her skin was growing clammy in his large hand. She was now wearing dark pants and a wool Gryffindor sweater beneath her black robe. Her hair was clipped to the back of her head with the strong teeth of a hair clamp. Tom was also wearing his robe but Hermione noticed that he was still wearing what she had seen him last in beneath the cloak. Either he had gone to bed wearing them or he had not slept at all.

She couldn't figure out which. Tom seemed just as alert as he would have otherwise. Tom found himself forgetting to observe his surroundings. He blamed Granger for toying with his focus and blinding him to the curious stares of the students gorging themselves on those benches that lined the aisle he escorted her down. Hermione wondered by he wanted to sit so close to the professors still lingering at their empty plates. She caught professor Dumbledore's eye and smiled up at him. Seeing him from time to time no longer tested the strength of her tear ducts.

The Transfiguration professor nodded graciously at her then looked up at Tom who clenched his jaw muscles aggressively. Hermione sank down onto his chosen spot on the bench, realizing now that they were about twenty feet away from her fellow Gryffindors. Tom hesitated for a moment longer as though not wanting to be the first to break eye contact with Dumbledore.

Then, he felt Hermione tug on the sleeve of his robe, "Tom, what's wrong?"

She felt him stroke the nape of her neck as he reluctantly lowered himself down beside her, "Just lost in thought."

Hermione casually looked around Tom's shoulders at Dumbledore and saw that the professor was now laughing with Slughorn who seemed to be trying very hard to avoid making eye contact with her.

Tom grinned, "Look's like someone lost their spot on Slughorn's Shelf."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "He just doesn't know what's going on right now."

Tom cleared his throat while Hermione served herself some slices of oranges with toast, "What do ... _do_ youthink something is happening?"

Hermione set her toast back down on her plate and gazed up at him, "I hope so."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"This isn't the first time you've been up here, is it?" Hermione asked him in a shaky whisper.

Tom smiled as she clung tightly to him, "I come up here to think. It's quiet, isn't it?"

Hermione gulped as she peered over the ledge of the sloping roof atop the Great Hall, "Yeah ... _quiet_."

She shrieked shrilly when she felt Tom nudge her. Her entire body tensed, her throat felt cold with terror, and she scowled over her shoulder up at him chortling behind her, "Don't _do_ that!"

Hermione smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand and he smirked, "Calm down, Hermione. I won't _let_ you fall."

Her heart still rattling within her chest, Hermione scooted up higher so that she could sit beside him rather than in front of him. "I'd ask if you've ever landed in trouble for this but you're a Prefect."

Hermione was glad she had chosen to wear her pants, regardless of how unflattering they were. It made it much more manageable to follow Tom up to this precarious niche. Tom fell silent, mesmerized by the honey-like reflection of the sun over the Black Lake.

Hermione glanced between it and his softened dark eyes, "Why do I feel like you want nothing more than to escape from reality?"

Tom's face turned a little away from her as he watched an owl circle around the Astronomy tower, "It's better there."

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded, "But, it's not _life_ , Tom. How bad can your reality really be?"

She watched his jutting Adam's apple bounce before he said quietly, "I'm a son out of wedlock. My mother deserted me and now I'm in hell."

Hermione felt her throat become cold again and it wasn't from a fear of falling, "She died."

Tom frowned down at her, "She was _weak_ , Hermione. She _let_ death take her away from me without a second thought! It's all her fault."

Hermione reached out to touch his back but she hesitated, "I don't understand you, Tom. How can you have so much hate for a woman you never knew?"

Tom suddenly became as still as a gargoyle, "I never said anything about _when_ she died." Hermione snatched her hand back as he turned slowly to look at her again. Those almond-shaped dark eyes made her heart tremble. "Whatever it is that you've been keeping from me all this time ... you know more about me than you should."

He grasped her chin a bit harder than he had intended and after a moment she pulled away, "I'm not hiding anything, Tom."

Tom swallowed deeply, "After _everything_ I've done for you ... _how_ could you lie to me?"

"Tom, you're scaring me." Hermione backed up on her hands and knees.

Tom snorted, "Join the club."

* * *

Tom watched Hermione bolt away from him down the corridor. She had accepted his help while descending down to solid ground but it was in impenetrable silence. He could taste the terror radiating off her, arousing his every sense. Tom's face remained expressionless as he stared for a little too long at the place where she had vanished down the corridor. He felt his lips trembling and decided it was time to find a place to be alone.

Hermione found herself blinded by the tears streaming down her cheeks. She whirled on the spot, trying to find something familiar to tell her where in the castle she had brought herself to. But, this was almost fifty years in the past. The castle was largely unchanged but for a few crucial landmarks. Hermione staggered over to the nearest window and peered down upon the grounds.

She concluded she was on the third floor in a corridor which had been forbidden to all students when she was a First Year.

"You look lost, Granger." She heard a pompous voice say.

Hermione spun around with a gasp. There were three of Tom's followers Avery, Yaxley, and Rosier, the one who had conveyed a direct threat to her merely a fortnight prior. Hermione noticed some peculiar bruises around the boy's neck.

Hermione took a deep breath when she realized she had, stupidly, left her wand beneath her pillow up in her dorm, "I don't want any trouble."

"You _are_ trouble, Granger." Taunted Yaxley as he stepped within a yard's distance of her rapidly rising and falling chest.

The three boys exchanged knowing looks and Rosier cackled, "As I recall ... you 'love a challenge', miss. It just so happens that so do I and my mates beside me."

Hermione tried to slide past Yaxley but he blocked her freedom with his arm. She saw that predatory stare in his eyes and she her tears began to well again. Yaxely leaned in close to her face and Hermione banged her head against his nose. The boy stumbled backwards in agony, seething with the pain of his broken nose. Hermione spotted one door down the corridor and bolted towards it.

Avery and Rosier took chase, abandoning Yaxley reeling on the stone floor. Hermione crashed against the heavy wooden door and fell to the ground inside the room. For a split second she realized she was in the room that would eventually house Fluffy, Hagrid's monstrous three-headed dog. What she would give for the beast to be here now. Rosier burst into the room behind her just as she staggered to her feet.

When he came close enough, Hermione smacked him with the back of her hand. Her long nails sliced into his chubby cheek. While he clapped his hand to his face and tripped Avery when the boy bounded over the threshold, Hermione dove for the trap door, wrenched it open, and fell head-first into the blackness. There wasn't a mass of Devil's Snare to break her fall this time. Hermione scraped her palms and knees when she collided with the gravel.

"I'm not going down there!" hissed Avery as the two boys were joined by Yaxley who was gushing blood from his nostrils.

"Gew are uh cow-vard," said Yaxley thickly, licking his own blood into his mouth as it poured over his lips.

"Then you go first!" retorted Avery. "We don't leave anyone alive, remember? We can't just leave her down there."

"She'll die of starvation," said Rosier calmly. "But, someone could hear her cries for help."

Avery leaned close to Rosier, "Maybe our lord could curse this place so that no one would come to her aid."

Yaxley guffawed darkly, "Gew 'eally are thick, Ah-very. He cares for deh mub-blood whore."

Hermione scotched backwards out of sight from the trap door filtering in light from overhead. She clutched her legs to her chest and rocked back and forth, praying that they will abandon her.

"GET IN!" roared Rosier and Avery was kicked down the hole and flopped on the ground before Hermione.

"You bloody tosser!" he growled as he heaved himself back to his feet. "Ah, miss Granger. She's down here!"

"We know that, you idiot!" said Rosier as he lowered himself down the trap door and landed on his feet on the gravel below. "Keep watch, Yaxley!"

Hermione scrambled backwards in the loose, sharp gravel as the two Slytherins lunged at her. She was breathing shallowly, sobbing, squealing, screeching shrilly, and clawing at them.

"What's this?" jeered Rosier as he gripped her chin. "Oh, look! The mudblood's crying!"

Hermione spat up into his eyes and bellowed, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Rosier wiped away the saliva from his eyes while Rosier flipped Hermione roughly onto her back and weighed her down with his own body, "You've never been _fucked_ , have you, Granger?"

Hermione's screams were muffled when he pushed her face into the gravel. The fair skin of her face was being diced with shallow cuts from the jagged rocks. She dug her hands into the gravel and sent them soaring up to the cavernous ceiling and raining back down on all of them.

"Avery, let me have at her." Said Rosier calmly.

Avery grunted through clenched teeth, "She'll escape!"

"Where have your manners gone this time, gentlemen of Salazar Slytherin?" came a deep voice from the surrounding shadows.

Hermione spat out tiny bits of gravel when Avery rolled off of her at the sound of his lord's inquiry. Her face was covered in dirt masking her reddened face covered in small cuts. Still trembling head to foot, Hermione glanced over her shoulder and gasped at who was accompanying Tom Riddle. Yaxley was suspended about a foot off the ground, making him nearly as tall as Tom. It would seem that an invisible attacker was holding the boy by his throat.

Yaxley's legs were bent at the knee and his arms were shaking at his sides as though fighting for freedom. His eyes were so wide that Hermione felt sure that they would fall out of their sockets. His broken nose had stopped bleeding but dried blood was cracking around his mouth. Tom's dark curtain of hair was perfectly set and his long robe did not give any sign that Yaxley had struggled against the attack ... perhaps he didn't have a chance.

Tom only had eyes for Hermione as he said to the underground room at large, "Perhaps I was not clear enough that night, Rosier. Which part of my simple request did you not comprehend?"

To anyone else, his tone would seem polite. Almost akin to having asked about the weather. Rosier dropped to his knees before Tom, "As I said to you that night, my lord ... I was unaware that any harm that came to the mudblood's well-being would be of concern to you."

"So, I was not clear. That's fine. I don't mind repeating myself, Rosier." Said Tom as Yaxley drifted closer to Rosier. "Some lessons aren't learned the first time."

Hermione staggered to her feet and started retreating, " _Tom_?"

Tom strode between Rosier and Avery to stand before Hermione, "Are you alright?"

Hermione gaped her mouth further, "Please, please, get me out of here. Please. I swear I won't tell a soul what happened here. I just want to go home."

She had no intention of keeping this attack a secret and Tom seemed to read it in her eyes as though written in text. Yaxley gargled in the background while Tom pursed his lips, "I told you that no incidents are traced back to us."

Hermione set her face stony, "No spell can wipe this from my memory, Tom."

"I'm not asking you to forget," he said calmly, though Hermione could have sworn that she saw a flicker of remorse streak across those dark eyes like a comet. "I'm promising you that they will not go unpunished. It is vital that this does not leave this cellar."

Hermione clenched her jaw, "What do I have to say to –"

"You can have the night to think of it," said Tom. Hermione frowned in surprise. He held out a hand for her to take. "I think you've been through enough horror." When she took his hand, Tom said over his shoulder to his trembling followers, "I _can_ be a merciful lord to those deserving."

* * *

"Stay away from me," whimpered Hermione as she pushed past the heavy wood door out to the third floor corridor.

Tom did not abide, "Hermione, you can't walk through the castle looking like that."

Hermione's face was peppered with tiny cuts from being thrust into the jagged black gravel and fine dirt highlighted her hollow cheeks. Tears were spilling down, leaving stark tracks in the blood and dry soil. Hermione widened her stride as his footsteps grew louder.

"Where are you going?" asked Tom.

Hermione pursed her lips and stared straight ahead, "Touch me and I'll scream."

Tom gripped her upper arm, "No!" He yanked her around to face him, "You will say nothing to anyone, understand?"

Hermione tried to slip her arm out of his cold grip and whimpered, "Let _go_ of me! _Please_ , Tom -!"

Tom pulled her to his chest, "Don't cry anymore, Hermione. You're only exhausting yourself."

Hermione hit her fist against his ribs but he did not react. She tried to push him away but he grabbed her waist, "I d-don't know w-what I've done t-to deserve this. Why won't y-you leave me a-alone?"

"Because I _can't_ ," said Tom through clenched white teeth. " _They_ know your secret now. Can't you comprehend how incredibly _dangerous_ that is? If anything ever happened to you -"

"You were too late!" Hermione stammered and hit his chest again.

Tom composed his face and stared unblinkingly into her welling eyes, " _Was_ I?" Hermione furrowed her brows, scowling up at him. She had the distinct impression that he had read her mind when the corner of Tom's lips twitched, "No ... I can promise you this, Hermione. They will find themselves forever incapable of procreating their monstrosity."

Hermione took a deep breath. Her scream was strangled by Tom's quick hand clamping over her lips. She struggled against his strength as he lifted her to his chest and opened another door at the other end of the corridor with his shoulder. Hermione wriggled in his arms and he staggered as he laid her down on the ground. She tried to bite his hand but missed her target. He was now sitting on her hips, holding one arm down with his free hand and the other with his knee while the other hand remained over her mouth.

"Don't fight me, Hermione." Whispered Tom desperately. "I'm trying to help you!"

Hermione's eyes were widened with terror and she screamed into his sweating palm. Tom pursed his lips and looked over his shoulder at the door. Before Dumbledore came to invite him to attend Hogwarts, Tom had already mastered a secret way to make himself unheard. The frame around the door vibrated and he knew that no one would hear her cries.

Hermione gasped hungrily when he released her, "Stop trying! Stop talking to me, stop following me! Stop acting like you give a damn about me!"

Tom dismounted her and kneeled at her side, "It's not an 'act', Hermione. I told you how you have an effect on me."

Hermione gingerly touched a deep cut on her lip and gave him an icy scowl, "Evidently not a whole lot." Tom saw Hermione flinch when he reached inside his robe to pull out his wand and she wondered aloud, "What are you doing?"

Tom slid a hand beneath her shoulder, "I need you to sit up for me."

Hermione shook her head, "No."

"I'm just going to clean you up," said Tom through clenched teeth.

Hermione sneered, "You've made me dirty in more ways than one, Tom Riddle."

Tom pressed against her shoulder, "Don't be a child!"

"Stop it!" Hermione tried to scoot away from him but he lifted her up and pushed her back against the wall.

Tom pointed his wand at her face, "Stay very still ... _tergeo_!"

His lips parted a little as though about to pull into a smile as the dried blood evaporated on Hermione's soft skin. Hermione found herself unable to move when he reached forward and gently wiped away the dirt with the sleeve of his robe. He traced along the line of her small jaw and Hermione felt a rush of blood flood the roots of her hair. When Tom pulled away to aim his wand at her face again, Hermione glanced down at her hair and saw that it was more vibrant with health than it had been in months.

Tom aimed his wand at her swollen lip and whispered, " _Episkey_!"

After a moment, Hermione licked her lip and found that the cleave had healed over and the swelling had receded. A few seconds later, the tiny cuts dotted all over her face began to close of their own volition.

Tom sighed and scooted a few feet away from her, "I don't want to hurt you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione stroked her smooth cheekbone while she stared up at him, "Then tell me something ... how did you know where I was? What was happening?"

Tom tensed his jaw muscles, "I've never been afraid of anything before you came along, Granger. I didn't feel anything. I never learned what it was to fear, to laugh, to just ... _be_. I thought I was the only one who knew about my mother's death. My father didn't even know. When you let slip that _you_ knew it made me wonder ... who you _really_ are."

Hermione closed her eyes, "You still haven't given me an answer."

Tom looked at the dusty floor between them, "I go to that cellar whenever I need to be alone. It's much more secluded than the roof. The darkness is ... it _comforts_ me. I don't have to see anyone and no one can see me. But, you're making the light not so scary after all." He glanced up at her as though looking for a reaction but she looked away. He gave a small smile then regained his composure, "I was most surprised to find _you_ there with ... _them_."

Hermione looked at him, "I went there for safety ... but, they found me."

Tom nodded, "There was safety down there waiting for you ... sorry that it was belated. I really, _truly_ am. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but ... I _need_ it."

Hermione swallowed, trying to moisten her dried throat. She thought of her parents, the Weasleys, Harry, Luna, Neville ... all those people she loved so dearly were depending on her, "I need some time, Tom. Maybe ... a _lot_ of time."

Tom gave a shaky sigh, gazed up at the cobwebbed ceiling, then stared at his shoelaces, "Then I'll wait."

* * *

Hermione stepped over the threshold into the Gryffindor common room. It was hard for her to believe that it was still the same day that she had climbed to the roof of the castle with Tom. After Avery, Nott, and Yaxley attacked her ... she considered dark things. Hermione staggered up to the girls' lavatory and, when a wave of nausea seized her, she raced to the nearest sink and puked. She wretched till there was nothing left but stomach acids dripping down in her watering mouth. Hermione was too numb to wipe her lips. She picked a shower among the ones fashioned against the wall and slowly undressed.

Yaxley, Nott, and Avery were huddled together in the dark cellar. They harmoniously flinched when they heard quiet footsteps approaching. Nott hastily gasped, " _Lumos_!"

They all flinched when Tom's thin and handsome face, partially hidden beneath the hood of his Slytherin robe, was illuminated by the wand's light. Tom observed his frightened comrades and began to laugh. It was a strange sound, one that none of the boys had ever heard before. It was a high, cold laugh.

Tom began to pace before them as his laughter died out, "Are your cocks still stiff, my friends? Or did they fall limp when I interrupted your ... moment with the muggle-born witch?"

Avery cleared his throat and answered quietly, "My lord, I am confused."

"Oh, that's an unfortunate thing to occur, Avery." said Tom quietly.

Avery nodded feverishly, under the false impression that he was pleasing his leader, "My lord has spoken many times of ... violating the mudbloods' honors -"

"I can understand why you would pick Hermione Granger to act-out what I've spoken," Tom nodded as he locked his eyes on Avery's while he paced past him. "She's an exquisite beauty ... why would she take your small dick? Don't deny it, my friend." Tom warned the boy teasingly, "I can understand that you'd feel the need to force yourself onto her."

Nott was visibly trembling, "M-my lord ... are you not ... happy? W-with what we were doing, mind?"

Tom stopped pacing and stood before them, "Come with me and you will know my ... _appreciation_."

"Can I join you?" Hermione asked of her dorm mates quietly that night for supper in the Great Hall.

Logan, the girl she had bonded with the most, nodded once. Hermione suspected that they all knew that she had broken the curfew and she didn't have to wait long for one of the girls to ask 'why'.

"One bed was unoccupied a fortnight ago," said the girl, whom had bright blue eyes and dark hair.

Logan waited for Hermione to speak up for a second before encouraging her, "It was yours, Hermione. Where were you? Or we'll tell the head of house."

"No need for threats," Hermione said, squinting at the girl. "I left to meet Tom."

She knew any lie she could come up with would not satisfy the girls. The truth was more interesting to them than anything she could conjure up. There was a collective murmur among the girls, whispering theories to each other as though Hermione were deaf.

"We went beyond the grounds with a few of his mates," Hermione continued cryptically. "We were not alone, if that's what you're thinking."

Logan raised her eyebrows, "You are either very brave ... or completely mad."

Hermione's lips parted, "Why would you say that?"

"The last girl they 'invited' died not long after," said the blue-eyed girl. "Her spirit now haunts the place where she passed."

Hermione bit her lip then nodded, "Moaning Myrtle."

"It's bad luck to poke fun at the dead," said Logan reproachfully.

Hermione squinted at her, "I thought that was her name. My apologies."

The girls were so perturbed by finding out the truth about where Hermione had gone that they soon drifted off to more mundane subjects. Hermione ate her supper in silence, nodding when appropriate in the conversation. She glanced once more at the Slytherin dining table and her jaw dropped. There was Tom leading Nott, Avery, and Yaxley. She frowned when she noticed something peculiar about Tom's followers.

They were all walking with an inhibited gate as though their thighs were stuck together. Hermione closed her mouth when Tom looked precisely into her widened dark eyes.

Hermione was following Logan out of the Great Hall when supper was finished when she felt a hand grasp her upper arm like a vice. Tom yanked her from the crowd before anyone would notice them and pulled her out to the courtyard opposite the Great Hall.

Hermione staggered behind him till he stopped at the dry well at the center of the courtyard, "What are you doing?"

Tom sat on the ledge of the well, "Don't be mad. I had to check on you. Spend the night with me."

Hermione forced herself to smile, "You are depriving me of rest, Tom."

Tom grinned up at her and patted the spot on the stone wall next to him, "What's life without risk?" Hermione hesitated to bait him further and he added, "I'm a prefect. You can trust me."

Hermione relented and sat on the cold stone beside him, "Fine, I am all yours. What do you want?"

Tom's grin widened, "You."

"Well, I don't belong to anyone." Hermione scoffed.

Tom considered her for a moment, "Give me an hour and maybe you'll reconsider." Hermione swallowed audibly and he stroked her lower back, "There's nothing to fear, Hermione. It's time we've had a laugh."

About a half an hour later, Hermione found herself skirting the edge of the Forbidden Forest with the boy she could not decide what to think of anymore. She averted her eyes from the hut at the edge of the mysterious woods, preventing her heart from breaking over being so close to Hagrid and being unable to speak to him. He would not know her now anyway.

Feeling like he had just read her mind, Tom said quietly, "That's the dwellings of the student who was harboring an adolescent Acromantula inside the castle. The beast killed a girl while she was in the girls' lavatory last year."

Hermione nodded, knowing that he was lying and remembering what Logan had said about the girl in question, "Were you her friend?"

Tom looked away, "Something like that. It was quite tragic what became of her. I only wish I had been there to fend the monster off."

Hermione's lips pursed when she chanced a glance back at Hagrid's hut, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Tom looked at her, "That's alright."

Hermione looked into the Forbidden Forest, "Have you ever gone in there, Tom?"

"Many times," said Tom, with an air that suggested he was trying to impress her. "There are many beasts inside the Forbidden Forest. I saw unicorns, half-breeds, thestrals -"

Hermione frowned up at him, "You can see the thestrals?"

"Why does that surprise you?" Tom asked politely.

Hermione cleared her throat, "Well, they can only be seen by people who've seen death."

Tom suddenly grabbed her hand and took her behind a tree trunk, "I want to entrust you with something that I've never told a single other soul."

Hermione felt like her throat had gone dry, "You can trust me."

A few moments passed before Tom said in a rush, "I watched my father die ... at my hands." He held up the ugly ring on his finger to her eyelevel, "This was his."

"Why?" asked Hermione quietly.

She was surprised when Tom's lip trembled and wondered if he was going to cry. Tom gave a shaky sigh, "Because he abandoned me, left me to rot in that orphanage. Left my mother to die. He was just as weak as her."

"Did he fight back?" Hermione asked.

Tom frowned at her in surprise, "What? N-no, no, he couldn't."

"So ... he was not a wizard?" She asked carefully, afraid of questioning his rumored pure-blood status.

 _This is a night of surprises_ , thought Hermione when he nodded, "He was a muggle. He tried to convince me that he had been bewitched and had run away once the enchantment was lifted ... the coward. He said any offspring my mother spawned would be a demon."

Hermione bit her lip then tilted his chin up, "Tom, it means a lot that you trust me enough to tell me this. But, I must ask you ... one last bequest. If you want me to be yours, you must not harm another soul."

Tom's lips parted, "I cannot promise you that."

Hermione felt her stomach drop. She had failed, "I understand."

"No, you don't." said Tom as he cupped her face in his. "You are a muggle-born witch. If I was not so certain of my feelings for you, I'd have thought you'd enchanted me like my father claimed to have been. But, I know this is real. You are not pure-blood, Hermione. That marks you as a target of my followers. I can offer a counter to your bequest. I will not harm another witch or wizard ... unless they harm you."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Tom was growing obsessed with the enticing, ravishing, mysterious mudblood ... _muggle-born_. He sneered to himself at the indications that she was now enjoying his constant company. It had taken a few months to gain her attention. Now that he had it in his grasp, he could only imagine what he could do with it. She was immensely intelligent, one of the many ways she matched him in strengths.

How could someone of such inferior birth inherit such gifts? He wondered if she had someone stolen it from a worthier ... no, she was worthy of it. In fact, Tom could hardly think of anyone more entitled to such supremacy. He blinked and found that he had wondered out onto the training grounds. Now too far away a duel was playing out between two little Second Years.

One was a Hufflepuff girl and the other was a Gryffindor boy. Tom stopped in his tracks when the little blond Hufflepuff disarmed the unassuming Gryffindor. He raised his eyebrows then rolled his dark eyes when the brown-haired boy dropped to the ground and began to cry. Someone ought to teach this child what it means to have a backbone that Gryffindors were so revered for. Tom approached them and the little girl wisely dropped the boy's wand onto the grass and ran for the castle.

The little boy was wiping his snot on his sleeve when Tom's long shadow encased him in darkness. He glanced up at Tom and flinched, scrambling backwards away from his wand. Tom guessed that this boy was also a muggle-born, whose first instinct was to rely on brawn rather than magic. The boy whimpered as Tom stepped carefully over his wand and loomed over the boy.

He seemed to hold his breath before exhaling sharply after Tom said, "Relax, kid." Tom bent down and offered his long, thin hand for the boy to grab. The boy's welling eyes widened even further and he shook his head feverishly up at Tom. Tom curled his lip in frustration, "Take my hand. I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy gave a little frightful shriek and scrambled to his feet, pushing past Tom and picking up his fallen wand as he dashed up to the safety of the castle. Before, such fear in his presence would have fueled his ego. Now, as he watched the little boy disappear into the crowd, he felt his heart sink. If Hermione were here, what would she say? Would she be proud that he had tried to help the child?

Or would she be bothered by how afraid the boy was of him? Tom frowned, puzzling over why he cared so much about what Hermione thought of him. Why did he offer to help the boy at all? Why hadn't Tom hexed the student for being weak? What was happening to him?

Tom focused his scowl up at the Astronomy tower where he had escorted his girlfriend to her class. She hated that class. The mere thought of Hermione's infamous reproachful-expression melted his glower away, cultivating a grin in its place.

* * *

Hermione felt moist, cold lips lather against her neck, "Tom, stop it. I need to get this done."

The towering Slytherin prefect whispered in her ear, his lips brushing against her bushy hair and soft skin, "Com'on, love. Live life on the edge."

They were in the otherwise empty library a little over a week since the night he confessed to her that he murdered his father. Hermione raised her shoulders and he sank down into the chair beside her, "Please! If I don't get this done, Slughorn'll give me lines for sure."

Tom placed his hand on her parchment to which she growled. He chuckled at her little aggression, "Not if I have anything to say about it."

She rolled her eyes as he worked his tongue into her mouth. Since he told her about his father's untimely demise, Tom seemed to be attached to her hip. No matter where she went, he was there. Hermione couldn't decide if it was because his fancy towards her was growing or that he was insuring himself that she would keep his secret as long as he was not too far from breathing down her neck. Hermione lifted her chin up and down with his lips pressed gently against hers.

She placed a hand, that had not yet stopped instinctively trembling whenever he was near, on his long, thin thigh, "Alright, Tom. Five minutes."

"I'll use it well," Tom said throatily, his cold minty breath nearly making her shiver. She gasped when he yanked her chair closer to his. "Sor _ry_ ," he whispered and kissed her lips before saying, "The Graduation Ball is around the corner."

Hermione swallowed nervously, "You don't say."

She hoped he didn't hear her voice crack from fear. Tom looked away from her, "We're allowed to bring ... dates."

"Tom -" Hermione started but her voice was choked when those dark eyes looked into hers.

Tom smirked, "No excuses, Granger. You're my girlfriend now."

Hermione wilted in her seat. The idea of being escorted to the ball was both frightening and ... tempting. She didn't know why she felt that way. But, she couldn't lie to herself. He was slithering beneath her skin, his fangs scratching at the delicate flesh of her heart.

"Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle." Hermione smiled up at him and rested her head spontaneously on his sharp shoulder. "I'll go with you."

Tom stared at the top of her head then kissed her curly locks, "My evil plan is working."

Hermione turned her head slightly to kiss the sleeve of his robe and mouthed for no one to read her lips, "So is mine."

It was now the middle of February of 1945. The snow had melted away and shoots of flowers, both magical and muggle, were pushing through the dry soil. Within a herd of girls from all four Houses, Hermione tried her best to remain anonymous as they were escorted down Diagon Alley by Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. Hermione remembered Professor Dumbledore saying during the speech she listened to from him in her Third Year that this man had retired 'in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs'. The professor did walk with a bit of a limp.

But, he appeared to be in otherwise good health at the moment. Kettleburn stopped outside Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, "Now, seeing as we have a rather large amount of students graduating this year, we'll have to form a line and take half-an-hour turns with groups of fifteen. To be fair, I think it best for us to try to file in alphabetical order."

About ten minutes later, after way too many girls insisting that their last names began with the letter 'A', Kettleburn shouted them all to silence, "New plan! I'll hand pick randomly."

Hermione wanted to shrink away into the crowd but this desire was extinguished when the professor called out, "Granger! Hermione Granger, step inside."

The girls, already well-informed that Hermione was Tom's girlfriend, parted a path for her as though she was infected with a horrid case of _Spattergroit_. She focused on the cobblestone street and ducked into the shop. Taking advantage of being the only customer in the store, Hermione ran her fingers along the dresses floating just a few inches off the wooden floor. She hovered indecisively over a burgundy dress that would end at the middle of her shins then shook her head. As two girls from Ravenclaw staggered into the shop, Hermione touched the soft fabric of an olive-toned dress.

She sighed heavily and made her way over to one of the curtained dressing areas. Hermione wriggled out of her pleated dark grey skirt and pulled her red sweater up over her head.

A voice that seemed to come from behind the mirror she was facing said, "A good bite of lemon cake would do you well, skinny."

Hermione's hands had immediately soared up to hide her bosom, "I don't need critiques, thanks."

The mirror groaned, "As always."

While the mirror grumbled on about being unappreciated, Hermione stepped into her dress and discovered that she had more cleavage than she had thought when the strings of corset inside the dress constricted her ribs on their own and lifted her breasts. The dress lacked straps and circled widely around her ankles. Hermione's lips parted as she examined her reflection in the mirror, noticing a few moments later that the mirror had fallen silent.

" _Beautiful_ ," said the mirror quietly.

* * *

Tom stepped into the Slytherin Common Room and closed the door behind him. He had always been able to lock away his feelings, his reactions to how people feared or revered him. Tom now commended the little Gryffindor for being smart enough not to trust him. Hermione had kept Tom at arms length ... until now.

Tom murmured to himself, "I'm endangering her ..."

"Eh-hmm," he heard a girl clear her throat.

Tom tensed up then turned to see who it was, " _Herm_ - _Hermione_?"

"Hello," she said, smiling up at him.

Tom glanced around the room. She was sitting on the long, dark leather couch that faced the fireplace, which was carved to resemble a snake's mouth. Her hair was hanging over one of her shoulders, revealing her graceful pale neck. Hermione furrowed her brows as he gave her no reaction.

"I thought I'd save you the hassle of following me," she explained, getting to her feet. Tom tensed his sharp jaw line and Hermione clicked her tongue, the sound echoing around the cavernous space, "I can see you don't like it. I'll just leave -"

"No!" Tom blurted out, holding his hands up. He then exhaled sharply, "It's just ... you're in my common room."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "My, my, my. Who knew you were so observant."

Tom took a few more steps closer to her, "I can't remember if any Gryffindor has ever been in here before."

"Am I just 'any' Gryffindor?" Hermione asked. Tom shook his head fervently and smiled sheepishly. He frowned when he realized that his emotions were showing and regained his infamous composure. Hermione circled around him, trailing her finger down his arm with his eyes following, "I'm ready for a tour of your dorm."

Tom swallowed, wondering when the blockade around his emotions was torn down, "My -?"

"Dorm," Hermione prompted. "I've heard it's brilliant." Tom looked down at the ground between them and she smiled, "You're _squirming_."

"I'm fine," Tom insisted with an uneven exhale.

"Don't worry, it's entertaining." Hermione entwined her fingers in his hand. Tom considered her for a moment, looking down into her innocent eyes. _What was she playing at?_ His gaze intensified and Hermione frowned, "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

"You always do ... just when I think I've got you pegged," Tom murmured as he looked away, indicating the descending staircase at the other end of the grand common room.

Hermione took a deep breath, hoping she had not made a mistake by coming here. She knew anyone else, especially Slughorn, would find her mad. But, Tom has had millions of chances to do her in. She was safe alone with him. Hermione let him escort her to the mouth of the staircase.

Though his cold white fingers were still in hers, Hermione walked a little behind him. She watched the shadow of the Black Lake dance its ripples across his black robe, cast by the high planes of glass separating them from the innumerable monsters that found home in the murky waters. He was more than a foot taller than her. Though he was quite thin, yet blessed with broad shoulders, there was the power of a snake's coils in his grip. Hermione's soft skin warmed his touch.

If only it would have an effect on his heart. As they approached the ominous dark archway, the tiled walls were illuminated by ignited wooden pegs fastened into the stone.

Tom reached out and pulled a torch out of its place on the wall, "These don't extend all the way down. We all learn to find our way in the dark. But, let's just put-off the imminent danger of you hurting yourself." Hermione swallowed and forgot to mask the anxiety in her widened eyes. Tom smiled reassuringly, "Don't you trust me?"

Hermione couldn't wait anymore for her voice to come back to life so she just settled on nodding and returning a smile. The steps were over a foot wide so she had to take one at a time whereas Tom could have probably taken double with his long, skinny legs.

After a few moments in silence, Hermione cleared her throat, "Does it give you joy to scare people? Tom?"

Hermione was left wondering if she hadn't spoken loud enough but Tom replied quietly, "I ... never thought of it that way."

She staggered down a few steps to be at his side, "How do you feel about it?"

"I don't," Tom said simply, keeping his eyes ahead.

Hermione paused a little on a step then trotted after him, "You don't know or you don't -"

"Feeling is a belated ailment," he clarified. "I was fortunate to have seventeen numb years."

Hermione saw the end of the staircase was not too far, "And now?"

"I'll tell you when I've got it pegged," said Tom as they reached the foot of the staircase.

There was a maze of hallways laid out before them. Tom indicated the one furthest to the left after sending the torch up the staircase with a nonverbal spell, "Mine's down there."

Hermione instinctively grasped his hand and laid her head against his forearm as they walked down the chosen corridor. Tom raised an eyebrow before looking down at her and grinned uncertainly.

"Who do you room with?" Hermione asked to fill the silence.

Tom cleared his throat, "No one. We don't share. Slytherins prefer time alone. We draw energy from solitude."

"Up in Gryffindor Tower, we get a few dorm mates." Hermione said, leaning away from his forearm but still keeping her hand in his.

"I know," said Tom as he stopped outside room .VI.

* * *

Harry and Ron had gone to the Slytherin Common Room without her in their Second Year to interrogate Malfoy. But, now, Hermione has gone further than they had. Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, was holding his door open for her to step inside.

"Not what you expected?" he asked as Hermione crossed the threshold.

The room was about ten by twelve feet wide. The ceiling was a couple of feet taller than normal. The walls were grey and extensively cracked. As she stood in the center of the room while Tom closed the door behind them, a tiny shard of the stone ceiling fell into her thick curly locks. Hermione turned on the spot and gaped at the Slytherin embelem relief on the wall directly above his short wooden bed.

"Did you make this?" Hermione asked as she touched the serpent in the relief.

Tom nodded at her back, "This is the oldest dorm in the castle. But, that's ... not why there are cracks in the walls."

Hermione squinted up at him over her shoulder before turning to face him, " _That_ wasn't cryptic at all."

Tom smiled, "Don't get ahead of yourself. It's just from my experiments."

Hermione walked around him. There was a dresser opposite the bed with a dark green oriental rug filling the space between them. There was a black candelabra on the ornate wooden desk set next to the dresser. About six text books were stacked neatly by the wall. There was a black journal set on top of them all. She recognized it as the diary that had possessed Ginny Weasley. She wondered if any other horcruxes were so plainly in sight.

Hermione pointed her wand at the candelabra, " _Incendio_!"

The wicks ignited, brightening the whole bedroom. Tom looked extremely pale in the firelight. Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears and placed her hands on his flat stomach.

"Don't get offended. But, the only thing that's missing from my guess is silk bed sheets." Hermione giggled for him, hoping it didn't sound feigned.

Tom chuckled and cupped her face, dipping down to press his lips to hers. He felt her long dark lashes flutter against his skin. He pulled up and away from her, watching her slowly open her dark eyes up at him. Tom rubbed his thin and chiseled face as he turned his back on her and sank down on the low bed.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, walking over and kneeling down before him. "Talk to me, Tom."

She had known this would be necessary. Hermione had to take this final leap to bound Tom Riddle around her finger. She tentatively placed her hands on his boney knees and stroked them with her polished thumbs. Tom's eyes were on her, but, Hermione felt like he was millions of miles away.

After what felt like too long, he finally blinked, "What are you doing?"

Hermione rose up from where she had been sitting on her knees and ignored the pain of her knees pressing into the stone floor. Tom turned his face away but Hermione gently turned his head back to face her. But, his eyes were closed.

"Is it because I'm a mudblood?" Hermione asked quietly, to which Tom's eyes snapped open. "Tell me to go and I will. But, know this, I will never, _ever_ come back. If you come after me, I'll -"

Tom suddenly clasped her face and kissed her, _hard_ , "Don't you _ever_ call yourself that again! And you're not going anywhere!"

He dropped his hands to her thighs and, with surprising strength, lifted her onto his lap with their lips still sliding against each other. Hermione felt his long icy fingers comb through her thick dark hair, gripping it.

" _Ow_ ," Hermione hissed when he pulled a little too hard on the roots.

Tom panted and pulled away, "Did I do something?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and stretched up to his magnetic lips. Her heart was pounding within her chest. She felt weightless as he ran his hands from her mane to her waist and back. Their breaths were winded as though they had sprinted all the way up to the Astronomy tower. But, she was beneath the Black Lake ... straddling the lap of Lord Volde- _no, he was Tom Marvolo Riddle still._

 _There was still a chance to save him from himself. Too many people were counting on her. In this moment with his lips against hers, she realized that Tom depended on her, too. He just didn't know it yet._ A whimper escaped Hermione's lips.

But, when she felt him start to pull away she shoved him flat on the bed, his head hitting the dimpled pillow. She writhed over him, choking his concern for her pain ... she wondered if his empathy was real. At the thought of this being all an act, Hermione felt her throat go numb. She feverishly untied his robe from around his neck and leaned back so that he could pull his dark green sweater up over his head. Hermione and Tom stared at each other for a few moments, their chests heaving.

She was surprised that his pectoral muscles were so defined. Hermione could see a few abdominal muscles moving beneath his porcelein skin. Tom's hands were on her thighs. Without hesitating a moment longer, Hermione unbuttoned her long-sleeved white shirt and freed herself from it with trembling fingers. Her cheeks flushed when her long dark hair touched her bare breasts.

Hermione laid her hands on his belly and Tom gulped, "I feel ... like a mesmerized cobra coaxed from the darkness."

She tucked a curtain of his dark hair behind his ear as she lowered herself onto him, trailing her fingers down his hollow cheek to his sharp jaw. Tom reached down to the ground where his wand had fallen and with an elaborate twirl there was no fabric between them anymore. Tom hugged her to his chest and turned them over without using his hands. Hermione felt her back touch the bed after a moment, realizing that he had _floated_ to be on top of her. His infamous jeering smile was nowhere to be seen.

Tom's long dark hair was sticking to his forehead shining with sweet. Hermione was shocked that he felt so heavy when he lowered himself onto her since he was so thin. When he entered her, she inhaled sharply at the agony. Tom closed his eyes and breathed hotly against her neck. Hermione gulped, trying to stem her tears from the pain.

She pressed him to her chest with her hands on his back. Hermione blinked her welling eyes up at the fractured ceiling and mouthed, "Forgive me, please. I don't feel sorry anymore ... he _needs_ me."

Tom was all the way in, which Hermione discovered the hard way that he wasn't supposed to do that on her first time. Perhaps he didn't know ... it then dawned on Hermione that she wasn't a virgin anymore. A tear dripped down to her ear as he continued to slide up and down inside of her. Tom shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, completely unaware that he had been sucking on Hermione's neck. A brown mark was forming where his lips had been suckling on the base of her neck.

Hermione trailed her hands around him to rest on his shoulders as he leaned away. His entire long body was trembling as he retreated from inside her. Tom was still breathing heavily and his dark almond-shaped eyes were glancing between hers, " _Hesh kasrasah seh."_ When Hermione frowned and shook her head to say that she did not know Parseltongue, Tom said hoarsly, "Don't - ehhm - don't leave ... me."

Hermione raised her eyebrows up at him and her mouth gaped when his lips started to quiver. His dark eyes were brimming with tears. She whispered up to him, "I won't. Listen, I know you've been abandoned your whole life. You're afraid that I'll be next. But, _believe_ me! _Tom_ ," she cupped his face when he kept turning away so that he had to look her in the eye. "I'll never go away."

Tom crumbled against her chest and Hermione grunted softly at the mild impact of his weight against her. She combed one hand into his dark hair and stroked the other along what she could reach of his boney back. He turned his head away from her, his mouth slimy with his leaking nose and his cheeks moistened with tears. She was the key to unlock the dam withholding all his repressed emotions. Only time will tell if they were better left restrained.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

It wasn't till the pool of students outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was impenetrable that Hermione let the dread she was feeling swell. It had been one day too long since she had last seen Tom. She feared that what she had done had completely backfired. Hermione had been desperate enough to question Rosier. She was too concerned about Tom's whereabouts that she didn't feel satisfaction when the future-Deatheater shrank away from her.

Hermione yelped when a deep voice croaked from behind, "Looking for someone?"

Hermione turned around and sighed with relief, "Don't do that!"

Tom Riddle looked ill. There were dark circles beneath his eyes. There was a distant feeling when he looked down at her that had nothing to do with their height difference. Hermione was about to give him a kiss but he strategically turned away, pretending to adjust the strap of his book bag as the heavy door to their next class opened inward. Hermione sat at the back of the class where they normally did and gaped when he strode right past her. Logan, her roommate, frowned between them before taking Tom's usual seat.

"What's going on?" she asked Hermione quietly.

Hermione blinked to stem her welling eyes, "Nothing."

While distracting herself with fishing out her supplies, Logan said under her breath, " _Sure_."

Hermione's impenetrable concentration could not be deterred from the back of Tom's head. She tried to label what she was feeling about him not sitting next to her. Yes, she was worried that he had lost interest in her before she could change the future ... but, it wasn't just that. Hermione sniffled as she pretended to jot down notes from Professor Merrythought's lecture.

Hermione knew that no one could Disapparate within the castle. But, Tom may as well have what with the way he vanished in the sea of students after their class was done. She paced outside the Slytherin Common Room, half-hoping that he would save her the trouble and happen to exit it while she was there. After a few minutes, Hermione accepted that he wasn't going to appear and returned to her common room.

Six days of his absence later, Hermione decided that she had no choice but to break into the Slytherin Common Room one more time. She was growing sick of worrying about whether she had failed or not, even though the signals he had been giving her aligned more with the first. Hermione ignored the Slytherins cackling with gossip as she strode through their packed Common Room. She sprinted past the ignited torches and stumbled down a few steps of the spiral staircase.

"Room six-six-six," Hermione hissed under her breath before recalling that it was down the corridor furthest to her left. She didn't hesitate before knocking her knuckles against the old door, "Tom? Tom! Open up! Are you in there? I need to talk to you!"

The door cracked opened after she heard a weak voice whisper, " _Alohamora_."

Hermione tentatively pushed the door inward and felt her heart jump into her throat, " _Tom_!"

He was slumped against the wall, wearing nothing but his ragged black pants. His dark hair was greased to his clammy skin. His lips were trembling and his breathing was shallow. Hermione dropped to her knees at his side, cradling his arm in her hands ... with was mangled in slices. She was whimpering incoherently as she extricated her wand from inside her robe.

Tom shook his head, "Stop. Maybe ... it'll work this time."

While Hermione stared up at his dark eyes webbed with swollen veins, his other fist unclenched. In that palm was the ring and she only noticed then that the diary was near him on the floor, too.

"W-What did you do?" Hermione sobbed as he dropped the ring and weakly tried to take her wand away from her. "Stop! Let me help you!"

"Y-You can't," said Tom, worrying Hermione further with how soft his deep voice was. "No one can. It's hopeless."

Hermione looked at him sternly, "I vowed I wouldn't leave you. Don't you leave me!"

Tom gulped as the gashes in his arm started to sow together without the use of a spell, "Hermione ... I can't ..."

" _Can't_ what?" Hermione asked him quietly, stroking his forearm.

Tom sighed and his hand dropped from her wand to scoop up his horcruxes, "I can't die."

"Is that what you were doing ... that's why you were avoiding me?" Hermione breathed, tucking a curtain of his damp hair behind his ear. "Why?"

Tom tried to sit up straighter but he groaned and slid back down. Hermione scooted closer to him and pulled him to her chest, tucking his head beneath her chin, his protests powerless against her.

"I let you in too far," Tom said shakily. "No one knows me like you do. It ... that wasn't supposed to happen. It's my fault. You've weakened me -"

Hermione kissed his hair, "Trust does not make you 'weak', Tom. What do you have to fear from me?"

"You don't understand," stammered Tom, trembling involuntarily in her arms while his blood supply replenished once again. "All my life, I've shut people out. It made it simple to do what I believed was my destiny. Hermione, before you, I wanted to bring about a muggle-born genocide."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, tears running down her cheeks as she thought of all those she had lost to Lord Voldemort.

"You make this impossible," Tom pulled away from her and ran his fingers through her hair once. His strength was returning rapidly. Hermione could see that the clammy sweat was evaporating and what little color he had was returning to his skin. He coughed before confessing, "Killing you crossed my mind. But, that disappeared beyond the horizon of futility. I can't do it, Hermione. So ... there was only one other option. I tried for days but ... it's my fault I can't."

Hermione whimpered as she nodded, "I would've been date-less to the Graduation Ball if you had succeeded."

Tom chuckled, "A few weeks ago, you probably would've cheered over my death."

Hermione's lips parted, "Maybe. Don't give me a chance to in the future."

* * *

The temperature outside was pushing sixty degrees Fahrenheit as Hermione looked down the barrel of February ending. She was fiddling with the black and maroon hood of her Gryffindor robe, wondering what Harry and Ron would think of her after all she has done. Would they be impressed or disgusted ... maybe a mixture of both? Hermione could not shake the feeling that they would hate her for it ... and she would not be able to make them understand.

Seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle was already responsible for the deaths of his father and Myrtle. It made it easier to be in his presence if she convinced herself that Myrtle's death had been a terrible accident. After all, she was the only student who had been killed by the Basilisk. If Myrtle had not chosen to hide from her bullies there, maybe she would not be haunting the girls' lavatory on the first floor of the castle now. Hermione sighed and looked out the window set beside her small canopy bed.

It was a dreary day for the last visit to Hogsmeade before graduation. But, she had insisted on Tom accompanying her no matter how the darkening clouds threatened to rain. After hinting that it would not be a popular venue because of the ghastly weather, Tom had finally relented. Though the cuts on both of his forearms had closed overnight, the scars were tauntingly refusing to melt away.

Hermione noticed how stranded his followers seemed to feel since he had metaphorically grown attached to her hip since that night by the Forbidden Forest. Rosier, Yaxley, and Nott had still not recovered from the limp in their walk. She had been meaning to ask Tom about it but had never found an appropriate moment in their long conversations to bring up his status with his 'friends'. They did still seem to revere him, especially the three who had attacked Hermione. She squeezed her eyes shut and got to her feet, flipping her robe onto her shoulders.

Beneath it she was wearing her pleated skirt with dense stockings to protect her legs from the bitter cold. She had set the pants that she had been wearing when the boys tried to rape her on fire ... an impulsive decision she now regretted. She was wearing two layers of sweaters and her black rain boots. Her thick hair hung free and natural. The only adornment on her face was her tinted lip gloss.

Hermione dragged her feet over to exit her dormitory as the clock struck ten. She had fifteen minutes to meet Tom in the Great Hall.

Tom Riddle was seated at the Slytherin dining table, his plate of scrambled eggs and a few slices of an orange set untouched before him. He hadn't expected to feel this out of place sitting at his ancestor's House table. He had lost count of how many times he had opted to join Hermione Granger at the Gryffindor table. Tom guessed that he probably stopped noticing after the students at her table stopped staring at him whenever he sat down with Hermione and began to accept his presence. They weren't out-right friendly to him.

They were just peacefully coexisting. Besides, none of them were brave enough to question him anyway. He sneered down at Nott, who was fidgeting on the other side of Yaxley.

He parted his lips and was pleased at how authoritative his deep voice was still capable of after being softened by Hermione Granger, "Don't worry, I'm sure the Permanent Sticking Charm will degrade before you're rotting six feet underground. I always wanted to know if it worked on skin."

Nott gulped, his eyes darting everywhere but up at his leader, "It does, my lord. Unfortunately."

Tom clenched his teeth together when cat-calls started echoing from down the table. He turned slowly in their direction and his jaw unclenched at the sight of Hermione closing the distance between them. He was impressed by how she looked directly into a few of the aroused Slytherin boys' eyes, silencing them with that icy glare. Yaxley immediately pushed Nott down the bench so that he could make a spot available for Hermione to sit beside Tom.

Tom chuckled when Hermione hissed under her breath, "They're such filth!"

"I'm sure they bathe regularly," he joked before sinking down to his lips against hers, which smelled a bit like apples.

Hermione shivered after their deep kiss and sunk her teeth into one of his slices of an orange, "We're still going to Hogsmeade, right?"

Tom's face was expressionless, "The anticipation is _killing_ me."

Hermione squinted up at him, "It will be _fun_ , Tom." When Tom scoffed skeptically, Hermione added in a husky whisper, "I'd eat my breakfast if I were you. We won't just be poking in _shops_ this afternoon."

Tom chuckled, barely resisting flushing when he realized that he had forgotten that they weren't alone at the Slytherin table. Hermione had that effect on him.

* * *

Hermione felt the back of her hood yanked back and a pair of lips swoop down upon hers. She giggled in surprise, "What was that for?"

"Don't question it," Tom chuckled as they walked away from the thestral-drawn carriage.

No matter what the drama she was in, Hogsmeade always looked charmingly beautiful. Tom seemed to feel the same way. Hermione could have sworn that she saw a glimmer of a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. They splashed through muddy puddles and Hermione pulled her hood back up over her head when she felt ice cold rain drops splat against her hair. Tom laughed quietly when she whimpered at the shock from the cold water.

"Haven't you always lived in England?" Tom asked, smiling down at her.

Hermione licked her lips nervously, "Um, yeah. Why?"

"It always rains," Tom chuckled.

They were completely alone. The cobblestone streets were eerily vacant. But, Hermione saw with a relieved sigh that the _Three Broomsticks_ was lit from the inside. She smiled when she saw that professor Dumbledore was already inside.

"Let's go in there, I'm cold." Hermione said with a trembling voice.

She took one splat of a step towards the restaurant when she felt Tom squeeze her upper arm quite painfully, "Let's do something else to get warm."

Hermione looked up at him slowly, "Tom, you're hurting me. Let go."

Tom hesitated a moment longer before unclamping his long, thin hand from around her soft bicep. He gave her a small, emotionless smile before taking her hand in his. Hermione staggered a little as he led the way down the slippery road.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

Tom slowed down so that she could walk comfortably, "Sorry about my behavior. It's just ... I'm on the old man's 'Naughty List'."

Hermione shivered where she stood, wondering if he cared at all about that, "Nott said you all were never connected to any of the crimes."

Tom bit his lip, "Well, tell that to the _reknowned_ Transfiguration teacher. He never trusted me. Maybe he should have just left me to decompose in that Merlin-forsaken orphanage."

Hermione backed away a little so that she could be sheltered by an overhanging roof, "He was the one who told you about Hogwarts?"

Tom nodded. They were now separated by a sheer curtain of rain. Tom's outline was slightly blurred. Hermione added quickly, "Well, I'm glad he told you. Without him ... we wouldn't be together."

Tom jeered, but, the sneer that accompanied it looked like a smile from Hermione's inhibited perspective, "How could I _ever_ thank him?"

Before Hermione could fully realized what was happening, Tom splashed through the watery drapery separating them and was hungrily kissing her lips. Next moment, Hermione was flipped so that she was pressed against the dark window of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop ... where happy couples haunt. With her breath hitching, Tom wiped aside her robe and Hermione felt him pull her skirt up.

"Stop, Tom! Stop!" Hermione begged tearfully. "It's okay! We can do that! Just not _here_!"

Tom glared into her eyes reflected in the spotless window ... then they melted into a look of horror. He backed away at the precise moment that the sun broke through the threatening clouds. Hermione wiped away her leaking nose before fixing her skirt and turning to face him.

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, her voice now strong with indignation.

Tom's eyes were still staring at the spot where her eyes had been reflected. He shook his head and his bottom lip shook, "Dumbledore was right ... I _am_ a monster."

Hermione swallowed her instinctive urge to flee, "Maybe you are _now_ ... but, there's still hope. Tom, look at me."

Tom looked into her eyes, unnervingly quickly, "I forced myself on you. Just like Rosier and -"

"No, Tom, you stopped. That's the difference between you and _them_." Hermione lied. "Tom, you're not like those morons. You're smart, you think before you act -"

"That's not making me feel better," said Tom darkly.

Hermione sighed, "Tom, you _feel_. Don't you feel remorse for what you've done?"

Tom flinched at the word 'remorse' and said quietly, "Hold me."

Hermione pulled him back into the shadow of the roof, now noticing that the sun was warming the little village and that more students were pouring in to take advantage of the warmth. She pulled his hood up over his head so that maybe no one would recognize him in this sensitive moment. _Of course he doesn't like 'remorse',_ she thought silently, _it's what he'd have to feel in order to undo his horcruxes_.

She stroked his flat stomach, "I forgive you for what you _almost_ did, if that makes you feel better."

Tom shook his head, "Actions speak louder than words. Isn't that what you told me once before?"

Hermione smiled, "That's right. Come with me, we'll go someplace more private."

Hermione crossed her legs on the large boulder Tom had cleared the snow off with a brisk slice of his wand. Her hair was curling more than normally because of getting wet in the rain. But, Tom liked it that way. Hermione shivered and gazed down at him, which was probably the only time she didn't have to look _up_ at him. She touched her shoulder with her chin and gave him a small smile.

Tom leapt onto the boulder with such agility he may as well have flown to where his shoes _clacked_ against the stone next to her. He sank down beside her, his long legs dangling over the edge of the boulder. Hermione glanced up at his thin face, trying to find even a hint of emotion in those brown almond-shaped eyes of his. His eyebrows were soft in comparison with his dark hair and his skin seemed to be even fairer than snow.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked him quietly.

Tom squinted his eyes away from the sun, "It's just ... odd how quickly you forgave me."

Hermione licked her lips nervously, "There was hardly anything to forgive ... wait, were you trying to make me ditch you?"

"I don't know," Tom murmured, glancing down at her. "I don't even remember pinning you against the window."

Hermione sighed, "That's ... disconcerting."

"To say the least," Tom agreed quietly, turning away. "Why do you risk it? Why are you with me? You know what I've done."

Hermione gulped as he looked into her eyes again, "Because ... I'm afraid of what you _will_ do, Tom. I've with you ... to _save_ you."

Tom scoffed, "You're a muggle-born -"

"As is half of _your_ blood," Hermione reminded him flatly. "Don't forget."

Tom leaned in closer to her, "I am the heir of Slytherin, the legendary founder of my House. Whatever filth my father stained my blood with does not compare with the potency of Salazar Slytherin."

Hermione sneered up at him, his face just inches from hers, "Is that what you tell yourself to justify your prejudice? Does that make what you believe right?"

Tom chuckled quietly, sounding like a _growl_ to her, "Perhaps you were mistaken, Granger. It's impossible for you to be this brilliant and have an inferior lineage."

"Just because I don't fall into your mudblood-stereotype," Hermione pursed her lips and slipped off the rock, "Tom ... has it ever occurred to you that maybe I'm living proof that you're wrong?"

Tom's lips parted as she turned her back on him and strode away from him. He winced when he heard her whimper, clenching his teeth and lifting his lips up to bare them. Tom squeezed his eyes shut and hid his face in his long thin hands.

He stammered to himself, cursing in Parseltongue, " _Hesh kasrasah seh_!"

Hermione glanced at him one more time before returning to the Hogs Head. She saw him rocking forward and back on the boulder and found it very difficult to resist running back to him. Tom screamed into his palms then pulled on his dark hair. He blindly stomped his feet hard on the boulder and sent himself tumbling to the ground. Tom glanced around him, searching for any witnesses to that display of weakness.

"Hermione," he murmured numbly, staring at the Hogs Head. "Come back ... come back to me."

The clouds overhead darkened alarmingly quickly but Tom did not notice till a drop of rain splat on the tip of his nose and dripped down to his lips. He squinted up at the threatening storm and gingerly got to his feet. From within his robe, Tom fished out his diary and pulled his ring off of his left hand. The rain was now pouring so violently that he was completely hidden to anyone who may be still in the streets.

To the first bolt of lightning, Tom dropped his journal and his ring into the muddy puddle forming at his feet and glared bravely at the second lightning strike, "I am sorry, okay? I take it all back!"

Tom waited for the unendurable pain he had read in the Restricted Section about how to undo Horcruxes. He had always wondered why he had bothered to read that section. Now, thanks to Hermione, he realized that it was because he was having second thoughts about what required to achieve immortality.

Tom spread his arms out and looked skyward again, "I am responsible for the death of Myrtle, my cowardly father and his family, and the murder of Gaunt."

Again, nothing happened. He stomped in frustration on the journal, in which he had preserved his sixteen-year-old self the previous year. Tom staggered back when he thought he saw the outline of his mother, cross-eyed and haggard ... just mere inches from him. He resisted screaming but his haste to back away landed him sitting in the mud. He wiped his eyes and saw that his mother had vanished.

"This is your fault," as thunder defeaned him, Tom roared at the spot where he had seen Merope Gaunt, "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

Hermione pressed her shivering hands around her mug of warm tea, sitting on the deep windowsill in the Hogs Head. She had lost sight of Tom and hoped he had gone into shelter. He was certainly not in this bar with her. A tear dripped down into her drink ... she had truly and completely failed to save him. Telling him the truth had been a stupid, idiotic decision.

"I'm so sorry, Tom." she whimpered quietly as she tried to take a sip.

Tom crawled to the puddle and pulled his journal and ring out, "What do I have to do to make this right? Why do I have to keep proving myself?"

A gush of wind blew past him, flipping the journal open to the middle. Tom's lips parted as the crimson words, written in what must be blood, read: _Actions speak louder than words_. The moment he was done reading it, Tom felt his heart give a tremendous _thud_ in his chest. He knew that he must put on a great display of remorse ... or his heart will stop. There was no turning back now as the curse infiltrated his heart.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

Rosier was biting his fingernails, pacing in his dorm before his friends ... once followers of Tom Marvollo Riddle. Without their leader, they all felt vulnerable and without purpose. Rosier was once Riddle's confidante, his most trusted ally. There was a time not too long ago where he would have considered himself to be closer to the dark lord than any of the boys now sitting at his feet in a semicircle.

"She has seduced him from our righteous path, my friends." Rosier said quietly, making the boys have to listen hard to hear him. "Hermione Granger has corrupted our lord."

Nott asked, "What can we do about it?"

Rosier stopped pacing and looked down at him, "After having our cocks permanently fixed to our thighs, I'd have said 'nothing'. But, now ... I must take his throne." Rosier seemed to be trying to convince himself more so than the boys and resumed pacing, "Our lord must be reminded why he brought us all together. Who here is still faithful?"

Every boy, some more hesitant than others, raised their hand.

Rosier nodded with an involuntary shiver, "Right. Let's not delude ourselves that our lord has been weakened in any way. He could still wipe us out with one request from that mudblood-whore. That is why, on the night of the Graduation Ball, we will make our own mark in this castle's history. One that our lord will be too tempted by to not take part in.

"Our lord goes wherever that slut goes. Hermione Granger will be our main target. Once she is gone, I have little doubt that our lord will return to us. Then, we will lay a genocide to all the mudbloods at this castle on that night. They will be the first of many on the path to purifying our world, restoring our rightful place over the muggles. Who is with me?"

A first year Slytherin passing by Rosier's dorm flinched at the sound of many boys roaring a war-cry from behind the door.

* * *

Hermione squirmed restlessly beneath her bed sheets. She had fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, but, her brain had other ideas. Hermione was dreaming of Tom Riddle. He was standing at the gateway where the thestral-drawn carriages would stop outside the castle. There were flashes of green light flickering violently behind him, throwing his staggering outline into sharp relief.

In the dream, all she wanted to do was to embrace him. She wanted his arms around her. But, something was wrong with her body. She could not make it do what she wanted it to do as though she had been Imperiused.

Then, in her dream, Tom said to her, "You gave me no choice."

Hermione awoke with a gasp, lurching upward and breathing shallowly. Her dark eyes darted around the dormitory. She was alone. She squinted out the window at the morning sun, swallowing in an attempt to regain control of her lungs. With trembling hands, Hermione disentangled herself from her blankets.

It took her a moment to realize that the whimpering was coming from her own mouth. She calmed down as she was riffling through her trunk for a clean set of uniforms to wear. Then, she came across her calendar. It was shocking when she realized that the dance was no more than six days away. Beneath her calendar was the dress she had bought that day at Diagon Alley.

She stroked the dark green ornate fabric and toyed with the white elbow-length gloves that came with it, "Too bad I won't be wearing this."

Hermione scoffed darkly. As far as she could conclude, without having discussed it with Tom, they were no longer together. 'Consequently', she would not be attending the Graduation Ball. Hermione tried not to be too hard on herself for destroying all she had worked for to bring Tom back from the brink. But, the nights between now and her failure have been filled with back-to-back nightmares of seeing her parents dead, Ron dead, Harry dead, Mrs. Weasley dead ... Tom Riddle dead.

Hermione rubbed her welling eyes and blindly set out her clothes to change in to. About ten minutes later, Hermione sat at the end of the Gryffindor dining table bench that was furthest from the teachers. She considered not telling Slughorn that she had not succeeded with Tom. Hermione was starkly separated from all the other Gryffindors who were still lingering over their breakfasts, talking about nothing important. They don't know that their lives are in jeopardy and that it had been down to her to save them.

As she distracted herself with forcing down a decent breakfast, Tom took a seat on the bench directly behind her at the Hufflepuff table. If Hermione turned around and saw him, he would have frightened her and it would not be because she didn't expect to see him. The dark circles around his eyes had gotten worse. They looked more like bruises now. His skin, which had always been pale, was sickly.

If this hadn't been so serious, Hermione would have been astounded that he could still look so handsome. He observed her thick dark curls cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Tom winced when Hermione whimpered his name, so quietly that no one would hear it unless they were as close as he was to her. It was then that he realized he had been leaning closer to her and was off his seat. In his haste to withold his impulse, Tom made to sit back down on the bench but missed it by inches. He fell to the floor and Hermione immediately twisted around.

He could see that his ill health frightened her more than anything else, " _Tom_?"

Hermione had never considered what Tom would look like if he were sick. As ironic as it was to think, she always found him ... invincible.

As he scrambled back to his towering height before anyone else in the Great Hall would notice that he had fallen, Hermione whispered, "What happened? Did you stay out in the storm?"

Hermione didn't know where her mourning had gone. The second she saw how sickly Tom was, everything she had been thinking about was rapturously pushed aside. Tom was backing away from her, staggering a little.

"Stop," Hermione ordered him quietly, grabbing his boney wrist. "I'm not letting you go again. Let me help you, Tom. You're not alone, okay? You've got me."

Without waiting for him to reply, she pulled him out of the Great Hall just as they were starting to draw an audience. Tom felt weightless, and he knew it wasn't because he hadn't eaten in a day or more, "You just don't give-up, do you?"

Hermione looked up over her shoulder to give him a comforting smile, "I almost did. But, I'm here and you're with me. That's all that matters."

Tom let her guide him to an empty classroom on the second floor, sensing that there was a lot to be said. He didn't know how much time he had left. The curse was sucking his life straight from his heart, the culprit behind his failing health. Time was running out like the sand of an hour glass had been transfigured into mud. Tom decided that he wouldn't tell Hermione that he was ... dying.

He had read and reread everything he could get his hands on about rejecting horcruxes. From what he had gathered, adding to it that he had gone further than anyone else in history to achieve immortality, he would have to make a grand sacrifice to undo this powerful enchantment. This could kill him. He had never considered that there was something he could fear more than death ... it was losing her. He knew he would not be strong enough to atone for what he has done without Hermione at his side.

She had told him she was afraid of what he _would_ do. Now, he realized, so was he. This all needed to stop. If he had to die for it to end, that was a price he was now willing to pay ... with interest.

* * *

Once they were inside the empty classroom, Hermione was at a loss as to how to proceed. Tom wasn't looking at her. That spot on the floor must be really intriguing to him. Hermione felt like this was the loudest silence they had ever shared.

She cleared her throat but he spoke, "That was hardly the way I had intended our trip to Hogsmeade to be remembered."

Hermione nodded and crossed her arms, leaning back on a desk, "Not preferably."

Tom, whom was much taller than her, had to sit on the top of the desk opposite her, "After my poor behavior, I thought you'd never speak to me again."

"I considered it," said Hermione.

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched almost into a smile, "You have nothing to contribute? Nothing to commentate on? For once, your lips are sealed."

Hermione nodded then leaned forward, "Unlock them, then."

Tom sat up from the desk, his black shoes _clacking_ against the stone floor. He swaggered towards her at a steady pace, a _confident_ pace that Hermione had been missing.

Before their lips would softly collide, Hermione gave him a weak grin when he whispered throatily, " _Alohamora_."


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Hermione felt sheepish spreading this mauve-toned concoction over her lips. The previous day, the girls had been assigned some rather complicated make-up potions in Slughorn's class. The boys were trying desperately to hold onto their masculinity while preparing a musky vapor that they would try to catch in a cologne bottle with their wands. The dungeon classroom was overwhelmed by various fragrances. Hermione was sitting cross-legged with her back against the headboard of her four-poster bed, in nothing but her knickers with a circular mirror in her free palm.

The dull hum of the conversations being held around her was like a numbing agent. She had the nightmare about Tom again the night before and once more when she took a nap after tea. But, that nauseating feeling of separation from him was reverberating in her waking hours. There was only an hour left to the dance. She was to meet Tom directly outside the Gryffindor portrait hole.

Something was troubling him, making him more overly protective than normal. Hermione humorlessly chuckled at the thought that something terrible could happen between the seventh and ground floor while in the company of her entire House. She wondered if Dumbledore would force him to remain with the rest of the escorts as that was traditional.

"Hermione, you're not even dressed yet!" Logan exclaimed, yanking Hermione out of her reverie and saving her from overly coating her lips with the glossy potion. "Come on, we need to go!"

Hermione pointedly dipped the brush back into the little clay container on her blankets, "Thanks for almost making me stab my lip with the applicator."

Logan stroked the skirt of Hermione's dress, "Oh, a certain someone won't know what hit him."

Hermione slid off her bed, ignoring her breasts swinging and bouncing freely as she pulled the dress off her blankets, "It's just green -"

"Exactly!" Logan smiled mischievously, "Can't be a coincidence that that's the color of _his_ House."

Hermione bent over and daintily stepped into the bust-line of the dress, "I'm sure he won't care that much."

"Oh, Hermione Granger. So modest," jeered Logan as she returned to her friends sitting on her bed.

Hermione smiled and pulled the dress up to cover her bare breasts. She felt the corset strings begin to slither through the holes and she placed her hands on the wall, bracing herself to be constricted.

* * *

Rosier was leaning in a corner of the area outside the Great Hall, corralled by his new followers. They all looked nervous. Nott had vomited before getting dressed in a dress robe his father had sent to him.

"This is your last chance to say your peace," Rosier said darkly. The boys remained silent. Rosier nodded, "Good. For any betrayals would result in immediate ... _dismissal_."

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle had not yet left his dorm room. Beneath his Slytherin robe he was wearing black dress pants and the darkest green button-up shirt he owned with black suspenders loose over his shoulders. He had lost quite a bit of weight since that pivotal trip to Hogsmeade so the suspenders were more than just a required accessory. Tom got to his feet from where he had been sitting in his rickety desk chair, staring at the Slytherin emblem he had carved into the stone wall by his bed. Wands were not permitted at the ball.

But, Tom had never been one to abide by rules. He retrieved it from the inside of his robe and aimed it at the relief carving. There was a dull grumbling noise before the carving crumbled to the thin blankets of his bed.

"I have many regrets," he said as dust started to rise from the pile of chalky stone. "The greatest of them all was continuing your dark work. If this is my last night, it will be devoted to defying you!"

With a detached sort of look in his eyes, Tom strutted through the curling dust and left his dorm for the last time. His trunk was left unpacked.

Hermione paced before the cold fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room. She had made up a lie that she was getting cold-feet to the girls in her dorm ... which was now becoming true. Hermione was already squeezed into the form-fitting corset, the bodice supporting her assets but not obnoxiously. The lone lit candle on the oriental table behind the largest couch facing the fireplace highlighted the curvatures of her lifted breasts, her defined collarbone, and graceful neck. Her thick curly hair was situated in an elaborate bun on top of her head. Tendrils were falling loose, superior to the charm Logan had cast for Hermione.

Her short heels could hardly be seen beneath the large circumference of the skirt of her dress. Only when she struck out to take a step could the tip of her coordinating shoes be spotted. She heard someone enter through the portrait hole but she did not look at him.

"Are you alright?" Tom Riddle asked, slowly approaching her.

Hermione batted her watering eyes up at him, "Sorry, I hope you weren't out there too long."

"I'm alright," Tom insisted in a whisper.

Hermione looked at him critically, noticing that the dark shadows beneath his eyes had not faded, " _Are_ you?"

Tom grinned humorlessly, "Can't I fall ill?"

She bit her lip and glanced at the ground between them, "Now that you mention it ... no. You can't. I have something that I ... that I want to confess." Tom's eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty but he did not interrupt her. Hermione sighed, "I never explained my behavior towards you before the winter holidays."

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched, "I haven't forgotten. But, I'd like to."

Hermione gulped, "I need you to listen and not find me mad. Tom, I'm not supposed to be here."

Tom frowned, "Well, we'll be in the Great Hall soon -"

"1945, Tom." Hermione said in a rush, "I'm not supposed to be here. At first, I tried to convince myself that it was just a nightmare ... that I would wake-up to see my friends, my parents ... not see the people I've lost because of you."

Tom took a step closer to her, "I'm having a difficult time convincing myself that this is not some bizarre attempt at ditching me -"

"I wanted nothing more than that after you saved me. But, now ... that's the last thing I can bare." Hermione's lip was trembling, "I'm not lying to you, Tom. I want you to know the truth before we walk through those grand doors. Well, that is, if you'll still want to take me or go at all. Tom, I was born thirty-four years from now. I was supposed to return to my parents for the winter holidays ... but, instead, I found myself in your class. Say something to me."

Tom's eyes were fixed on hers, but, he seemed to be so far away, "I believe that you think this is the truth. But, you know I'm not easily swayed without proof."

Hermione found that she could no longer stand beneath his detached gaze and sank onto the soft cushions of the sofa, "I know something that you've never told anyone else."

Tom hesitated for a moment before stepping so that he was looming over her, "What is that? Why are you trying to ruin us?"

Hermione's voice cracked as she started to cry, "I know about your horcruxes."

Hermione's doe eyes were so wide her long, thick lashes were almost touching her newly manicured brows. Her soft lips were parted in fear of what the future Dark Lord standing before her will say now.

Tom swallowed, his protruding Adam's apple bouncing up and down, "You're afraid of me again. It would be wise."

Hermione's lower lip shivered, "I couldn't lie anymore, Tom. Not after you've been so honest and good to me -"  
Tom scoffed wryly, "Have I? Tell me, how is it you would know that I have such dark possessions ... if I have any at all."

She thought of Harry and Ron with a pang in her heart, "I was part of a group of three. It was our mission to destroy ... all of them. Aren't you intending to make seven?" Tom remained silent and rooted to the spot. Hermione resumed quietly, "I know what they all are ... well, a _few_ I don't. But, one's your mother's locket," Tom's intelligent eyes widened just a fraction as she began listing, "and that ring you took from your uncle which would've killed Dumbledore if Snape hadn't murdered him, your diary -"

"Stop ... talking," Tom said quietly to which Hermione did not protest. "Don't be afraid anymore. I believe you."

Hermione shakily dabbed away the tears dripping down her cheeks, "I thought you'd be _furious_ with me."

"No, I'm not. But, if you had told me this five months ago ... who knows what I would've been capable of doing," Tom was now barely a few inches from where Hermione had backed up into a desk.

" _I_ know," Hermione said with her voice breaking. She could feel Tom's warm breath on her face, "So ... why don't you look so well?"

Tom, who had been bending down to give her a reassuring kiss, straightened back up, "You were very brave to disclose to me your knowledge of my ... _possessions_. But, you're going to have to trust me. There is nothing wrong with me -"

"Could it be that your soul is split?" Hermione insisted, taking a confident step towards him which she had thought she may never do again. "Maybe it -"

"They make me _immortal_ , Hermione." Tom tried to smile down at her unflattering concern. "Please, let us not speak of that again. I want you to be happy tonight."

Hermione sighed and asked jokingly, "Is that why you're fore-longing my execution?"

Tom bowed forward and took her gloved hand in his, "I'm afraid you'll be waiting for a very, _very_ long time for that."

Hermione slipped her hand out of his gentle grip to wrap her arms unexpectedly about his broad shoulders. Without a moment of hesitation, Tom lifted her up off her feet, leaving her heels behind on the rug. This revealed that she was wearing crimson stockings underneath her emerald ball gown, sporting her Gryffindor heart underneath all this subterfuge. She giggled before pressing her lips to his. Hermione was brimming over with relief and a sense of accomplishment that surmounted all her school marks.

She had changed Tom Marvolo Riddle ... or rather she retrieved the man he truly was underneath all the hate and pain he endured. With surprising strength, Tom yanked her legs around his waist. The enormous skirt of her dress resisted such closeness but Hermione hooked her ankles to keep herself on him. Tom turned around and sat down on the table, running his hands hungrily all over Hermione. Hermione licked the side of his face and ducked low to kiss his collar bones.

Tom's hands rested on her middle, encouragingly massaging her soft skin. One curtain of his dark hair was flapping free of where it had been pinned behind his ear. Hermione felt jittery and restless. Tom laid back on the old table, his feet still planted on the ground thanks to his long legs. Hermione uncoiled her legs from around him and sat on his hips.

Tom watched her fan her dress out around her so that nothing but his pants and her panties kept them apart. Hermione stroked his concave stomach up and down, up and down, up ... Once he was inside her, Hermione gripped his shoulders as she began to writhe her hips on top of him. She clenched her muscles especially hard when he grunted and groaned. Hermione was panting breathlessly, her cheeks growing rosy. Tom squeezed his eyes shut as he bucked underneath her and she gave a high-pitched cry of bliss.

Tom sat upright again and kissed her deeply, "No more secrets, do you understand me? You can trust me now as I have trusted you."

Hermione halted mid-writhe on his pelvis. After a moment, she nodded wordlessly and kissed him softly. Tom helped her step down from the table and he buttoned his black pants closed. Hermione crossed the room to the small mirror on a short cupboard. A few more tendrils of curls had wriggled free since she last looked in her reflection but she otherwise seemed presentable.

Tom walked up behind her and stroked the exposed strings of her corset, "You're beautiful ... no matter what your heritage is."

Hermione gazed up at him before turning around to kiss him, "Tom, I lo-"

 _BANG_! Tom and Hermione were knocked to the ground by a sudden explosion near the Fat Lady's portrait. Tom hunched over Hermione, taking the blows from the scattering bits of stone.

Breathing shallowly, Hermione turned to peer up at him beneath the curling dust, "What was that?"

Coughing and spluttering, Tom gripped Hermione by her shoulders and lifted her to her feet along with him.

"You missed all the fun, my lord." There was a cackle of laughter, "Fashionably late, are we, Hogwarts'-most-likely-never-to-shag?"

Tom glared through the clearing dust and growled, " _Rosier_!"

Rosier strutted towards them, "Hope we aren't interrupting anything, my lord."

Nott appeared behind him and aimed his wand directly at Hermione's heart, " _Crucio_!"

Hermione was knocked to the ground and the curse hit a different heart. But, Tom hardly gave a flinch. Hermione stared up at him from where she had crumbled to the ground, realizing that he had pushed her out of the Curse's path. About a few moments passed in which Rosier, Yaxley, Nott, all of them stared up at their former leader's impassive gaze.

Tom clenched his jaw and cracked his neck before glaring down at them all, "That _tickled_."

Hermione saw something flickering in the corner of her eye and, when she glanced down at it, she saw that it was Tom's fingers ... trembling within the sleeve of his dress robe. Despite his apparent resilience to the Unforgivable Curse, she guessed that he had concentrated his reaction to his hands.

Rosier recovered quickly, "Is she still wet, my lord? Might we all get a go?"

Tom scoffed down at him, "Well, certainly not Avery, Nott, and Yaxley. I believe they'd run into a little difficulty. Wouldn't you, my friends? Unless you have sodomy on your mind," The three boys who nearly raped Hermione averted their eyes from Tom, whom glanced over his shoulder down at Hermione, "If I have not made it glaringly obvious, gentlemen, you'll have to duel your Dark Lord first. I can take you one at a time ... but, if you don't want to _suffer_ , I can simultaneously put you all down like hounds." Rosier gulped and took a step forward, "Keep your distance, Rosier. I thought you were smart," Tom said quietly, protectively. "Just ask Nott, Yaxley, or Avery. They've witnessed my ... _creativity_."

Hermione held her breath when Tom turned his back on the boys and extended a hand down to her. She gazed up into his eyes ... he was scared. This must not be the look he must have been giving the Deatheaters surrounding them. He truly trusted her enough to reveal what he would have labeled as a weakness. But, Hermione saw it as strength ... the strength to not hide how he truly feels.

She read his lips, a silent message only for her, as he lifted her back on her feet, "When you get the chance ... run."

Tom had never felt so worn, so battered, so ... _weak_. Taking Nott's Cruciatus curse, though it had not been excruciating since the boy was not a talented wizard, had taken a hit to his palpitating heart. He felt restless, anxious, and paranoid. Hermione needed to be as far away as she could be from these young men he had raised to be killers. Especially now that he truly doubted he could protect her from them.

Hermione clung to Tom's forearm, his elbow coiled to her bosom. If she had the chance to run, she wasn't going to leave him behind. Something was wrong with him. He was no longer a danger to the world, but, there was a new danger rearing its head inside of him. Hermione did not understand it, hardly wanted to admit it, but ... he was dying.

She knew it. Something was wrong with his horcruxes. She wondered if she had something to do with it ...

Nott toyed with his wand, "No disrespect, my lord. But, we've all got a common feelin' that _you_ forgot you were Lord Voldemort. You taught us that the mudbloods don't deserve to be educated like us -"

Rosier held up a hand for Nott to be quiet, "It's clear what has happened, men. Hermione Granger happened to him."

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched, "I won't argue your deduction. I'll be back in a few minutes. Ready yourselves, boys ... you've gained my attention."

Next thing Hermione knew, before she could fully process what had gotten her there, she was falling through the air. Tom had grabbed her around her middle and leapt straight through the stain glass window behind them. She screamed with all her might, clinging so hard that she was tearing his dress robe.

"Open your eyes," Tom said calmly.

Hermione yelped as her feet patted the lawn of the castle grounds in the assumption that they would surely crash. Still trembling in his arms, Hermione glanced up from where the window was still raining sharp shards of crimson and gold glass to Tom's detached dimenor.

"What happ- did we _fly_?" Hermione breathed.

Tom nodded ruefully, "Shows how far I've pushed the boundaries of magic. Come with me. I'm getting you out of here."

Tom's thin ghostly fingers were coiled around Hermione's bicep and he jerked her towards the waiting carriages. Hermione's protests could hardly be heard over the commotion surrounding them. All the students were still being evacuated from the castle. The graduating witches and wizards were formally dressed while the underclassmen were in their pajamas. It was only then that Hermione registered that night had fallen.

She stumbled when she tried to stop him. Hermione tried to get him to look down at her. But, his brown eyes were locked forward as stubbornly as the muscle in his sharp jaw.

"Step aboard, girl." said Mr. Kettleburn distractedly, taking Hermione's hand roughly when it was within reach. "There's a good girl, come on. Hurry!"

Tom lifted Hermione onto the second step and shoved her inside the carriage. The professor slammed the door shut and Hermione reached her arm through the open window in the door.

"Tom!" Hermione cried out, her lips trembling.

He froze before he could fully depart from her. Tom turned around and took her outstretched hand.

Hermione reached for the latch on the door to break free but Tom hastily wiped out his wand, " _Colloportus_!"

The latch was magically rendered useless. Hermione shook her head weakly, pursing her lips together, and squeezing her eyes shut.

"You gave me no choice," Tom said, his deep voice so clear to her it was like he was inside her head ... her heart. It was what he had said in her dream. It was coming true. Tom continued flatly, "This is _my_ fight. It'll be alright. I swear."

Hermione choked out, a whisper he miraculously heard over the shrieking masses, " _I love you_!"

There was a change in his detached gaze. Tom stepped forward but, before his lips could touch hers, the thestral took off at a gallop. She was wrenched from his arms. Hermione watched him stand frozen in the act of kissing her. Hermione let herself be pulled into a comforting embrace from a girl who was a stranger to her.

She stroked the neck of her wand as she gently pulled herself free after a few seconds. Hermione crossed to the opposite side of the crowded compartment and aimed her wand at the harnesses attaching the carriage to the invisible winged equine.

" _Diffindo_!" she whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

The thestral let out an earsplitting screech as the harness was severed and the carriage crashed forward into the ground. Hermione climbed out through the open window of the compartment door and held out her hands, feeling the skeletal equine wrapped in the harness that appeared to be floating on its own. The girl who had been hugging her, Maddy, poked her head out of the compartment window, "What are you doing?"

"I've got to go back!" Hermione said as she tried to mount the thestral, using the harness to guess where its withers were.

The girl's already pale face whitened further, "No! I know who you are! You're a muggle-born! They're killing them! Killing them all! By the Black Lake!"

Hermione finally climbed atop the transparent steed and entwined her fingers in its mane, "Are you sure, Maddy?"

"They, Rosier, Yaxley, Nott - all of them! They took all of them for some kind of 'sacrifice'! The professors will save them! Come back!"

Hermione peered at the castle through welling eyes, "No, he needs me."

Tom skidded to a stop outside the Great Hall and his mouth gaped numbly. The entire hall had been lavishly decorated with greenery to symbolize the new life the school was releasing into the world. There were orchid-shaped glasses, wooden bowls and plates, and mountains of snacks everywhere. There was a tree in the center of the hall ... but, its branches were on fire. Tom staggered forward and heard a _crunch_ beneath his feet.

He lifted up his shoe and saw that he had trodden on the Mirror. It was a historical artifact of the castle that was only shown to the graduates. When a student looked into it, the Mirror would try to guess what career path that witch or wizard was taking. Tom suspected that his followers had something to do with its demise. His brows furrowed as a drop of blood hit the shard of glass.

Tom felt at his face and realized that he had maimed himself when he jumped through the window up in the Gryffindor tower. But, those cuts were dried now. Another drop of blood hit the mirror and Tom gazed upward to the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There were seven students, all witches, speared on each golden arm of the chandelier. Tom squinted further up at the ceiling and he glared at what was written in a circle on the cavernous ceiling in the dead witches' blood: _Paths Away From Lord Voldemort Are Paved In Blood. Surrender._

Tom tore his gaze away from the dead muggle-borns and rang his fingers through his long dark hair. He gripped it at its roots and a few came loose. Fury was contorting his handsome, thin face. With a roar of despair, the ground beneath his feet shattered.

Ripples of shattered stone floor reverberated around his black dress shoes. His ebony dress robe billowed around his ankles. His curtains of dark hair lapped around his eyes which were angled further in mounting aggression. He strode with conviction towards the archway leading out to the courtyard. With a simple gesture of swinging his arms out before him the door was rocketed off its hinges effortlessly.

Tom listened for any signs of life, turning on the spot beneath the crescent moon. This courtyard had a staircase the led down to the recreational grounds and the Black Lake.

" _Homenum revelio_ ,"he said inside of his head.

Nothing happened. Tom knew his followers had not escaped in the carriages. They must be outside.

"You fools wanted my attention," he threatened darkly as he unhinged those huge doors as well. "You'll regret gaining it."

Hermione clung to the thestral, unable to shake the nausea of soaring over the Forbidden Forest astride a creature she could not see. The thestral snorted proudly, tossing its head joyfully. It had taken to Hermione's command readily since she freed the stallion from pulling the carriage like a simple draft horse. The thestral started to dive towards the deep green lawn once they had cleared the forest. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for a very bumpy landing.

But, like her previous experiences, the thestral touched down with the grace of a shadow.

Hermione dismounted the boney back of the thestral and patted what she assumed was its withers, "Thank you."

Her thick curly hair was fast unraveling from the elaborate up-do. She shielded her eyes with her forearm as the invisible creature flapped its wings and took to the air again, its harness straps billowing around it. Hermione squinted down at the boathouse on the Black Lake. She could make out a squirming mass of nearly a hundred students, both graduates and undergrads, corralled in a herd along the stone dock and up one flight of the staircase that would take one to the courtyard opposite the Great Hall.

She hitched up the skirt of her cumbersome dress and staggered in her haste down the steep hill to the shore of the Black Lake. By the time her bare feet sank into the cold dark mud, her curly hair had entirely broken free of its constraints and was billowing around her in the brisk evening air. The hem of her dress was sagging in the wet soil. She peered across the vast lake. Hermione was directly opposite the boathouse and it took her a moment to fear that maybe the Deatheaters would spot her on the shore.

She flinched when one Deatheater pushed a victim, writhing and screaming against this invisible bonds, into the bottomless frigid basin.

Hermione wiped out her wand and shouted impulsively, " _LEVICORPUS_!"

To her amazement, the young wizard burst from beneath the surface of the lapping lake. She whispered, thinking of the student's attire, " _Accio!"_

The boy began to drift helplessly above the treacherous waves but, before the boy was within ten feet of her, Hermione was blasted off her feet by a bolt of misaimed emerald light and the boy fell back into the water, spluttering free from his bonds.

Hermione coughed roughly as she heard a deep, gravelly, commanding voice echoing from the top of the staircase at the courtyard above the boathouse roar in Parseltongue, " _KAHEDERAH, BEVO SAMO AIN_!"

The Deatheaters harmoniously gazed upward to their former leader. Tom flattened his trembling hand on the short stone wall and leaned into it. His skin had grown a grey tinge, intensifying around his reddened dark eyes. He hoped that the Death Eaters did not take this as a sign of weakness ... because it was.

Tom clenched his jaw, raised his hand struggling to maintain a grip on his wand and aimed it at the stone steps below him, " _Diffindo_!"

There were about five flights of staircases and they all harmoniously shattered at his command. The muggle-borns shrieked with fear as bits of stone pelted towards them. Tom stood away from the wall and drew his free hand across his chest with his wand pointed directly at the terrified mass of students. It was like an invisible semicircle had consumed them and the shards of stone, some as large as a car, bounced off it like hollow balls. All those tear-streaked and fear-stricken faces turned to gaze up at him as the dust from the landslide settled.

Tom stepped onto a boulder that had fixed itself into the stubborn dry earth a few feet down from the courtyard. He extended one hand out behind him and splayed his fingers out. As though he had pushed against something, the boulder steadily slid down to the boat dock. Hermione lifted her head from the muddy shore and watched him descend to the massacre.

The boy she had rescued fell down beside her and shook her shoulder, "Com'on! Let's get out of here!"

She gripped his tiny hand and twisted to meet his eyes. He had dark hair like Tom's, but, he had tan skin and lime green eyes. He couldn't be older than a Second Year.

Hermione choked out, "No, I have to help the others. _You_ run to the main gates, OK? There might still be carriages. Go!"

The boy nodded feverishly and departed from her, scrambling up the steep hill and vanishing over the top without a second thought. Hermione stared at the spot where he disappeared, hoping he would make it to the gates safely. She staggered to her bare feet and held up the hem of her dress heavy with smelly mud. When she peered across the lake, she saw that Tom had reached the dock and that the muggle-borns were still shrinking away from him like he was a decomposing corpse.

"Don't be afraid," Hermione said tearfully as she broke into a run, "He's here to help."

Tom spared a few seconds to watch Hermione run. He could only hope that she had the sense to go back to the carriages. This was a losing battle for both sides, and he would never forgive himself if she became a casualty.

"My lord, you don't look well." Rosier cackled, gesturing to the boulder Tom had ridden down on, "Maybe you should have a seat. We'll take care of all this. You're wishes are coming true, my lord."

Tom clenched his jaw, "No!" He turned to the muggle-borns, "I swear on my heart that I had no part in this!"

Yaxley glared at them, "Oh, I don't think they're so easily swayed. We are not, either, sire. You are confused. Come back to us. We'll transform our world. It'll be better!"

"Set them free," Tom ordered Rosier, striding to him. "Don't make me force you."

Rosier squinted up at him, "The mudblood whore really has a hold on you. Doesn't she? Have you been Imperiused?"

Tom had to force himself not to look for Hermione on the shoreline, "She enlightened me to things I, Tom Riddle ... _not_ Voldemort, refused to see. She's made me stronger."

He was stowing his wand inside his robe to show the muggle-borns that he was not a threat when he was hit with a emerald bolt of light. Tom shielded his eyes, but, judging by the communal gasps from his spectators, he was still standing.

Rosier yanked the blond Gryffindor, which Tom recognized as the boy he offered to help a few weeks ago, from the crowd, "We have an assassin in our midst! What would you have me do with him, sire?"

Tom lowered his arm and peered down into the little blond boy's eyes, "Let him go."

There was another, louder, gasp from the Deatheater's victims at Tom's merciful act. Rosier laughed, "My lord always had a way with humor!" He lifted the boy up by his pajama collar, "Thank you for volunteering. You'll go first."

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her scream as she watched Rosier throw the little boy into the merciless waves. She was a mere one hundred feet from the dock. Even if she had not been so quick to silence herself, she likely would not have been heard over Tom's roar of furry. She squinted at him when he swayed on the spot. He was growing weaker with each passing minute. She needed to be by his side. Hermione ducked behind a fallen boulder as tall as Hagrid and felt her wrist gripped by a wrinkled hand.

"I thought I put you on a carriage, Granger!" growled Kettleburn.

Hermione choked on his foul breath, "He needs your help! Tom can't do this on his own! He needs medical attention! _Please_ , he'll die!"

Dumbledore appeared behind the Care of Magical Creatures professor, "He is their leader. He is as guilty as they are. Rosier boasted that Tom Riddle planned this."

"He lied!" Hermione shook her head fervently. "Tom was with me! In my common room! We never even reached the Great Hall! _Please_ , professor Dumbledore! He's a changed man!"

"That is a risk I am no longer willing to take, miss Granger." said Dumbledore sadly. "I brought him to this school. I endangered all of his fellow students by doing that. It's my duty to -"

" - to not place blame on a man guilty only of living without love! Guilty by association!" Hermione argued, her words tumbling over each other. She winced when there was another very loud splash. Rosier must have thrown many students at once into the Black Lake for how loud that splash was. Hermione plowed on, "Tom just _gave_ them these monstrous ideas. But, he's seen that he was wrong! He's trying to stop it all now! Just look!" Hermione peered around the boulder again and gasped, "Where did they go?"

The dock was vacant but for one young, tall man kneeling at its edge with his head bowed, his face hidden by his curtain of dark hair. Hermione squinted at the Deatheaters whom were now fastened to the cliff face by chains that had not been there before. Tom must have disarmed them in those few seconds Hermione was not looking. But, where were the muggle-borns?

Tom was shivering from head to toe. His hands slick in his own vomit were gripping the cobblestone ledge. Tears were spilling down his sunken cheeks. His heart was palpitating more painfully than before. The muscles in his thin arms and legs were aching excruciatingly.

Tom knew he only had a short amount of time left. Rosier had simultaneously cast the rest of the victims into the lake. If he waited any longer, they would all surely drown. He listened to Hermione calling his name and could feel her feet pounding the long dock towards him. Hermione screamed as Tom tilted forward and fell beneath the frigid waves.

"TOM!"

* * *

Hermione clutched at the cobblestone dock, weeping in despair. Albus Dumbledore, Horace Slughorn, Kettleburn had the criminals in custody. Rosier and the rest of the murderers were bound to the cliff face, unarmed and cowering. Hermione frowned when she saw tiny pebbles dance around her fingertips ... the ground was trembling.

She sniffled and her dark eyes widened as the quaking grew more powerful with each passing second. Just as everyone else with her on the boat dock was noticing the grumbling earth, the ground beneath them all gave a violent _yank_ beneath their feet. Hermione lurched forward while everyone but the Death Eaters fell to the slick ground.

"What the hell?" she breathed as the glass surface of the Black Lake ruptured into curling waves.

Hermione pushed herself back to her feet and used the tie-off piling nearest to her to remain steady. The ground would tremble, then be still, then tremble again. The very center of the lake was churning into the eye of a hurricane, the epicenter of the agitated current. The metal piling was bouncing painfully against Hermione's constricted ribs.

She shouted over her shoulder at Dumbledore, "WHAT'S HAPPENING?"

Dumbledore seemed just as helpless as she felt. Then, she read his lips say, "In God Almighty ..."

Hermione frowned and turned back to look at the center of the lake ... there was a tall dark haired young man rising out of the widening funnel.

" _Tom_?" she gasped in disbelief.

There was Tom suspended above the trashing waves with his arms stretched out at his sides, his legs dangling limply, and his chin almost touching his collar bone. It was as though the grim reaper himself was dangling Tom's lifeless body by nothing but his arms.

"No, please don't be dead!" Hermione whimpered as she untied the corset strings at the back of her dress ... without a wand like a muggle. "I'm coming for you!"

She was trembling just as much as the earth and groaned each time she made a mistake. Hermione wasn't much of a swimmer. But, if she got the chance to get to him she was going to risk it. She knew that the mass of her dress would only sink her to the bottom of the Black Lake like an anchor if she were to try to swim in it. Hermione was down to her undergarment dress when she saw Tom's head erect.

He was facing skyward when his limp hands suddenly tensed into fists. All around him over a hundred smaller funnels were forming. Hermione's mouth was completely gaped as she watched each muggle-born witch and wizard, alive or drowned, rose from beneath their watery graves.

"WHERE'S HIS WAND? HOW'S HE FLYING? WHAT _IS_ THIS MAGIC?" Slughorn shouted over the grumbling earth to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore strode towards Hermione, "Love, my old friend. Love."

Hermione was about to fish out her wand from her bosom when Dumbledore grabbed her wrist, possibly under the impression that she was still planning on diving into the murderous waters. In all directions, the muggleborns drifted either squirming or lifelessly to the surrounding shoreline. Once they were a paranoid-safe distance from the lake, they were laid in the tall grass. As all this was happening around him, Tom's skin grew steadily greyer and greyer, darkening around his closed eyes. Beneath the Black Lake, through the winding corridors of the Slytherin dormitories, in room VI-VI-VI, the locket, diary, and Marvolo's ring began to vibrate angrily.

The surface of the lake became glassy once more and Tom fell back into the freezing water. At that very moment, Tom's horcruxes vanished into thin air.

"TOM!" Hermione screamed.

She slipped out of Dumbledore's slackening grip and dove headfirst into the Black Lake.

"Miss Granger! Come back this instant! It's too late for him now!" Slughorn skidded to a halt at Dumbledore's side. "He's dead!"

Hermione struck out for where Tom had fallen, "No! He can't die!" She spluttered and whispered to herself, "Let me save you, Tom. Please, let me save you." Hermione turned on the spot at the center of the Black Lake, "TOM?"

The three professors, the Death Eaters, and the muggleborns that had survived looked on helplessly from the shoreline. Dumbledore was about to extend his wand out to reel Hermione back to safety when she felt a heavy hand clasp at her shoulder.

"S-s- _swimming_ ou-out to g-get m-me?" Tom's voice cracked in her ear, "Ar-are you su- _sure_ y-you're a w-witch?"

"Oh, Tom!" Hermione spun around and, without thinking, coiled her arms around his neck in an embrace of relief. She sobbed into his cold, dripping neck, "I th-thought you drowned!"

She could hear the combined whispers around the lake magnify together ... they were shocked that he was still alive. Tom struggled to remain afloat with Hermione hugging him. His heart was beating so slowly now ... too slow. He saw dark spots popping in front of his eyes. He had used up his last bit of strength _levicorpusing_ all of the muggleborns, dead and miraculously alive, out of the lake.

Hermione turned over on her back and Tom reluctantly wrapped his arms around her waist while she struck out backwards for the opposite bank. Her undergarment dress was white and had become transparent in the water. Tom had ripped off his robe before he grabbed Hermione's shoulder to reduce his weight in the water. He let go when the depth of the water grew shallow. Hermione staggered upright and let herself be the crutch to make it possible for Tom's long, trembling legs to support himself.

However, they barely made it to the Beech tree before they both collapsed with exhaustion. Hermione pulled Tom onto her lap and rested her back against the trunk of the tree, "I'm here, Tom. You're going to be alright. It's going to be alright. I'm here."

"You're not _supposed_ to be," Tom breathed, fighting his drooping eyelids to gaze up at her. "That was m-my dying wish ... for you to be safe. C-couldn't grant that for me?"

Hermione combed her fingers through his soaked hair and bent down to kiss his brows, his nose, his cheeks, his eyes, and finally his lips. Her long dark curls weighed down in water and mud were now like a curtain around their faces. They blocked out all the distractions. It was like they were the only ones left.

Tom tried to sit up but fell back in Hermione's lap, "Were they a-alive? D-did I get any of them out i-in time?"

Hermione nodded vigorously, "I saw some - _most_ ," she lied to him. "What's happening, Tom? Why aren't your horcruxes working now?"

"I knew this could kill me. I couldn't tell you ... I didn't think you'd care if I died. Not until this night." he chuckled humorlessly.

"Tom! _How_ could you _lie_ to me this _entire time_?"

Hermione was shocked at how terrified she was at the thought of him dying in her arms, especially in such an inhumanly cruel way. Since she was aware of Lord Voldemort, she wanted him dead. But, she couldn't stand by and do nothing for _Tom Riddle_. Lord Voldemort was defeated.

"M-m-my h…," he said through gritted teeth.

He seemed to be unable to speak clearly anymore. He weakly grabbed Hermione's wrist and she flinched at how cold it was. Tom was unable to explain so he pulled her fingers to his chest. Hermione could feel a faint heartbeat.

He let her hand go and squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of pain overtook him. Tom's breath was becoming shallower and shallower. His body seized up, "I-I love you, Hermione Granger. A-always will. Please, d-don't hate me for this."

Tom placed his arms over his stomach and gave a quiet _groan_. Hermione placed her hand on his ribs but pulled it away quickly when he gave a gasp of pain. Then, his body relaxed. But, Hermione was sure it wasn't because the pain had gone. She was certain it was still there judging by his faint continuous moans. He just had lost the strength to tense himself into an instinctive protective ball.

His legs went limp while his hands rattled on the ends of his gangly arms.

His dark eyes closed.

"Tom? Tom, talk to me. Please, don't be dead!" she scooted closer, lowering herself over his lifeless body. Hermione knew what she would have to but she was afraid to touch him again. "No. No, no, no. N-n-no, Tom? Tom, _please_ , don't do this! No, no, no! No, no, n-no!"

Tom's mouth hung open slightly and Hermione saw that he had bitten his own tongue because of how hard he had been convulsing. Blood was dripping out the corner of his lips. Hermione, finding that her own body was shaking, tried to gently place her hand underneath his shoulders and thighs to lift him up but she stopped when he gave a terribly sad _gasp_ like she had just lowered him into a bath of painfully cold water.

"Tom, I know it's going to hurt. But, I need to get you on your feet, okay?"

"I can't," he stammered.

"Yes, you can. I will _not_ watch you die!"

* * *

Two days later, Tom finally was conscious enough to communicate. He fabricated a story to the nurses that he was struck with a curse that made him lose weight dramatically and caused his heart to fail. Hermione finally was able to talk to him. A small hint of color had returned to his face when she saw him. Maybe he was just happy to see her.

She pulled up a stool to sit next to his bed and held his hand in hers. Hermione noticed that his eyes were more chocolaty than bottomless pits now. She couldn't help herself but analyze how frail he really looked.

"I'm not as handsome as you remember, huh?"

Hermione smiled and shrugged. There was a bit … a lot of truth to that, but looks weren't her biggest concern at the moment.

Tom's cheekbones and jaw line were a lot sharper than they used to be, there was still shadowing around his eyes, his lips were nearly as colorless as his skin, and even his fingernails were discolored. Hermione guessed there were bruises underneath all his fingernails, making them purple. The blanket that covered him looked more like it was swallowing his tall frame.

"I tried to get rid of you for weeks, Tom. I don't think your 'handsomeness' had much to do with it."

She was happy to hear him speak. But, it wasn't a very happy moment. His throat sounded terrible as ever.

"I talked to the nurse when I - well, Dumbledore was also there - brought you here. I think you owe me a 'thank-you' for convincing them to not send you off to St. Mungo's."

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days,"she nodded, glancing down at his quivering chest, "She told me how much trouble you had been in."

Tom's sunken face fell a little,"Did she?"

"She told me how much you were suffering. But, I didn't need her to tell me. I can see it right in front of me."

"I had to do it …. Hermione, they're going to lock me away in Azkaban now ... aren't they?"

"Oh, Tom!" she leaned across the bed and kissed him on the lips.

Tom moaned gutturally,"Your lips are so warm."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and saw that the nurses weren't looking. She lifted his magically heated blanket and curled up next to him on the bed. He shivered a sigh as she laid her leg across both of his and rested her arm across his chest. She tucked him in and rested her face beside his.

"I love you because you're stubborn, hard-working, protective, intelligent, loving, and have a beautiful soul underneath all this turmoil. Looks are fleeting. But, I'll inflate your ego a little by admitting that yours are easy on the eyes."

His colorless cheeks flushed just a little. She felt his slightly warmed lips on her forehead as he pressed them to her for a kiss.

"I may have overcome my fear of death. But, now, thanks to this extraordinary witch that gave me a chance, I have a soul that can be sucked out." Hermione frowned up at him and snuggled closer. Tom stroked her arm, "The Headmaster came to see me during the night, Hermione. He said that I was to be arrested on suspicion of having a hand in the massacre, regardless of how I saved seventy-seven of them. I don't want to be in a cage, Hermione."

Hermione nodded and kissed his throat,"I know ... and I won't stand by and let them take you away."

"Hermione, you are gifted. But, I think the Ministry officers will have the upper hand," he said faintly, clearly about to slip into sleep.

"No, Tom. They'll have to go through me, first. I can't lose you again."

"I probably smell bad," he laughed but it got caught in his throat and made him cough.

"You do, but that's not exactly bothering me at this moment." Hermione squeezed her eyes to stem her tears, "Tom, I want you to meet me in the Gryffindor common room tonight at eleven o'clock. It's probably the first place they'd look for you but ... I'm getting you out of here."

"If I am not Bound to this gurney, I'll be there, Hermione." his chest shook as he tried to laugh again, "Hopefully they'll let me bathe first."

Hermione ran her hand along his boney face, hoping that one day soon it will be full of life again. He met her eyes and she realized that they were chocolaty-toned rather than bottomless pits. There was a twinkle in the warm pools of his eyes. The bits of his soul in the horcruxes had returned to their rightful place.

"I just want to be here with you right now. Don't worry about anything. You don't deserve to be incarcerated after all you've done. I'll run away with you, Tom."

That night at 10:57, an agitated witch was pacing in front of the roaring fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione was wearing a deep crimson pleated dress. Her hair was refusing to be subdued tonight no matter what product she applied. It was stubbornly bushy as ever, locks of brown curls cascading down her back and over her shoulders. She kept peaking into her cupped hands as though to be certain that she had taken the right amount of Floo powder from Slughorn's classroom.

She checked the watch on her wrist as she sank down onto her trunk. It was 10:59 p.m.. She had slipped a Sleeping Draft into her dorm mates' wine during supper earlier that evening to make certain that no one would try to foil her plan. Hermione hoped to convince Tom to travel with her to the United States where his crimes are less known.

Hermione tapped her fingernails on the glass of her watch, "Com'on, Tom. Come _on_. What's taking you so long?"

"I'm just admiring the view," said a deep voice from near the portrait hole.

Hermione gasped and twisted around. There stood Tom. He was wearing his hospital wing attire underneath his ... _Gryffindor_ robe.

"Where did you steal that?" Hermione smiled as she ran quietly over to him.

Tom glanced at the emblem on his left side and shrugged, "The Misplaced & Recovered. I figured I no longer qualified as a Slytherin. That infantile rivalry between our Houses makes it a good disguise to get here."

Hermione opened one of her fists to show him the Floo powder, "Ever been to America?"

Tom chuckled and flinched when Hermione shushed him to be quiet. He hissed, "Never had the chance."

"It'll be a fresh start, Tom, far away from all of this."

Tom glanced over her head at the crescent mood dangling over the Forbidden Forest, "This is our home, though."

Hermione sighed sadly, "We can come back anytime, okay? Let's just get out of London for starters."

She levitated her trunk to her side and Tom laughed quietly, "I assumed we were traveling a bit lighter."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured towards the fireplace, "Com'on, Tom. Hold your comments till we're somewhere as strangers."

Tom pulled his wand, which Hermione thought had been confiscated by the officials, and extinguished the bright flames. She stepped into the ashes, her _levicorpused_ trunk following her like a dog on a leash, and giggled when Tom had to duck to be beside her.

Hermione poured his portion of Floo powder into his hand and entwined her fingers in his free hand, "On the count of three, one ... two ... three! New York!"

Tom tugged her to his chest and kissed her as their powder rained down upon them. Hermione cupped his face as they vanished in the emerald flames.


	13. EPILOGUE

**Epilogue**

 **Seven Years Later**

The inhabitants of a little town in the Czech Republic were barred inside their cottages by the piling snow outside. It was the winter of 1951, and Mr. Riddle's wife was sitting cross-legged on their sofa in their quaint living area. She had a multicolored wool blanket on her lap which did nothing to hide her distended belly. Hermione Riddle was seven months along with her first child. She was pouring over a few Diagon Alley advertisements.

Since Tom's birthday followed Christmas so quickly, she wanted to purchase a few things for her husband. Tom Riddle was now making a living for his budding family as a Curse Breaker. Self-employed, of course, as he was still a fugitive. This scared Hermione whenever he got an assignment, worrying her about whether or not the Ministry of Magic had finally found them. Hermione tucked a curtain of her thick dark hair behind her ear and felt her baby stretch inside her belly after a nap.

"Hey, my little angel." she cooed at her protruding midsection, stroking where she had last felt her child's hand. "Are you hungry?"

Moments like this made Hermione think her son or daughter already knew English, because, the baby seemed to be getting a little fussy. Tom's baritone voice was the most powerful anecdote for this. Hermione heaved herself to her feet and waddled into the kitchen. If he were back already, Tom would remind her that she was a witch and that she could have summoned everything she needed from the cushy sofa. As she thought this, Hermione heard a faint _pop_ in the foryer of their crowded house.

Hermione and Tom had cast every spell, charm, and curse, which she reluctantly agreed to, that would keep intruders out. This meant that they could not invite any of their neighbors or friends over for tea ... let alone a baby shower. Tom had told her he was working on a way to let her experience that part of being pregnant. The house was so heavily guarded that they would have to recast them once the baby was born so that it would recognize and accept a third occupant. Tom beamed at his little expectant wife when she joined him at the front door.

"How are you feeling? Are your feet still as sore as they were this morning?" he asked, bending down greatly to kiss her passionately after hanging his heavy black robe, dripping in melting snow, on the rack by the door.

They kissed like they had that first time in the corridor at Hogwarts that night of Slughorn's party. They kissed as though they were still young in their relationship. Worrying about whether they'd see each other again almost every day didn't hinder that throbbing level of passion.

Hermione smiled and massaged her belly, "We're both doing fine. A little hungry, though. My ankles felt better after applying that hot-cool cream of Mrs. Bartunek across the street. See, muggle medicine can be just as helpful as magical ones."

"I just want you to have the best care," Tom grinned as he guided her back to the sofa. "Now, what are you craving today? If I need to go to the market, say so now before the storm gets too rough for flying."

He seemed a little worn and exhausted from working all day, so Hermione replied, "Whatever we already have that you don't have to cook, Tom."

They kissed again and Tom pecked her swollen belly before straightening up. The couple talked about the day they had apart like they did almost every day. This was their life now. Sure, it was stressful to be secretive for possibly the rest of their lives. But, after saving Tom, Hermione was used to leading a complicated existence. As long as they were together, they could face everything the world threw in their path.


End file.
